Never make it perfect.

It wouldn't kill you to stay the night anyway.

New York was a city where you could be frozen to death in the midst of a busy street and nobody would notice.

They're selling postcards of the hanging They're painting the passports brown The beauty parlor is filled with sailors The circus is in town Here comes the blind commissioner They've got him in a trance One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker The other is in his pants And the riot squad they're restless They need somewhere to go As Lady and I look out tonight From Desolation Row.

Keep a good head and always carry a light bulb.

Come Senators, Congressman, please heed the call, don't stand in the doorway, don't block the hall.

The confessional singer-songwriter movement of the 1970s was in full swing, and Bob Dylan's emotional album [ Blood on the Tracks] resonated with the times. There would be other hits, but never the same alchemy of emotion and time.