There's no liquor in the land that can stop your brain from bleedin
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud, I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
There is a house in New Orleans they call the Rising Sun, and it's been the ruin of many a poor boy and God I know I'm one.
I kissed goodbye the howling beast on the borderline which separated you from me.
Art is a never-ending dance of illusions.
Bob Dylan was again an entirely new person - this time old, craggy, cynical, and world-weary, as in "Not Dark Yet".