There's danger in this open world where men strive to be free, and to me the greatest danger was in society.

If you want to keep your memories, you first have to live them.

The hollow horn plays wasted words, proves to warn that he not busy being born is busy dying.

Everyone of them words rang true and glowed like burning coal, pouring off every page like it was written in my soul from me to you.

How many roads must a man walk down, Before you call him a man? How many seas must a white dove sail, Before she sleeps in the sand? Yes, and how many times must the cannon balls fly, Before they're forever banned?

They can't hurt me. Sure, they can crush you and kill you. They can lay you out on 42nd and Broadway and put hoses on you and flush you in the sewers and put you on the subway and carry you out to Coney island and bury you on the Ferris wheel. But I refuse to sit here and worry about dying.

We sit here stranded, though we're all doin' our best to deny it