Come senators, congressmen, Please heed the call, Don't stand in the doorway, Don't block up the hall, For he that gets hurt, Will be he who has stalled, The battle outside ragin', Will soon shake your windows and rattle your walls, For the times they are a-changin'...

My songs always sound a lot better in person than they do on the record.

So I cut off my hair and I rode straight away, to the wild unknown country where I could not go wrong.

May you have a strong foundation when the winds of change shift...and may you be forever young.

[In 1951] we were also told that the Russians could be parachuting from planes over our town at any time. These were the same Russians that my uncles had fought alongside only a few years earlier. Now they had become monsters who were coming to slit our throats and incinerate us. It seemed peculiar. Living under a cloud of fear like this robs a child of his spirit. It's one thing to be afraid when someone's holding a shotgun on you, but it's another thing to be afraid of something that's just not quite real.

An artist has got to be constantly in a state of becoming.

He's hell bent for destruction, he's afraid and confused, and his brain has been mismanaged with great skill.