Sold my guitar to the baker's son for a few crumbs and a place to hide.

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.

The land created me. I'm wild and lonesome. Even as I travel the cities, I'm more at home in the vacant lots.

I'd been going though his trash. He knocked me down. I was glad to see him, even though he was banging my head against the sidewalk. Afterwards these bums come over and say, 'Did he get much money?' I say, 'Money'? That was Bob Dylan.

In writing songs, I've learned as much from Cezanne as I have from Woody Guthrie.

You swore you'd never compromise With the mystery tramp, but now you realise He's not selling any alibis As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes And say, do you want to make a deal How does it feel

I said, you know they refused Jesus, too. He said, you're not him.