It's not easy to define poetry.

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

It frightens me, the awful truth, of how sweet life can be.

In the dime stores and bus stations, people talk of situations, read books, repeat quotations, draw conclusions on the wall.

I always thought the best kind of sunglasses are the motorcycle helmets with the black plastic masks on them. That way, nobody can recognize the back of your head either.

They like to take all this money from sin, build big universities to study in, sing Amazing Grace all the way to the Swiss banks.

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'...