Although the masters make the rules for the wise men and the fools, I've got nothing, Ma, to live up to.

How many times must a man look up Before he can see the sky? Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have Before he can hear people cry? Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows That too many people have died? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind, The answer is blowin' in the wind.

There would be brilliant songs, but, as [Bob] Dylan admitted on the recent Martin Scorsese documentary about him (No Direction Home), the specific muse that inspired "It's Alright Ma" would not return.

With great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks, you've been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books.

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.

There ought to be a law about you coming around.

Art is the perpetual motion of illusion. The highest purpose of art is to inspire. What else can you do? What else can you do for any one but inspire them?