Jesus tapped me on the shoulder and said, Bob, why are you resisting me? I said, I'm not resisting you! He said, You gonna follow me? I said, I've never thought about that before! He said, When you're not following me, you're resisting me.

All these people that I used to know, they're an illusion to me now. Some are mathematicians, some are carpenters' wives.

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

Every day your memory grows dimmer - it doesn't haunt me like it did before.

I accept chaos, I'm not sure whether it accepts me.

I never could guess your weight, baby.

After a while you earn that privacy is something you can sell, but you can't buy it back.