When you've got nothing, you've got nothing to loose.

Really the truth is just a plain picture. A plain picture of, let's say, a tramp vomiting in the sewere. You know, and next door to the picture Mr. Rockefeller or Mr. C. W. Jones on the subway going to work. You know, any kind of picture. Just make a collage of pictures.

To preach of peace and brotherhood, oh what might be the cost? A man he did it long ago, and they hung him on a cross.

Come writers and critics Who prophesize with your pen And keep your eyes wide The chance won't come again And don't speak too soon For the wheel's still in spin And there's no tellin' who That it's namin' For the loser now Will be later to win For the times they are a-changin'.

I'm inconsistent, even to myself.

I am hanging in the balance of a perfect finished plan, like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.

I'm gonna spare the defeated. I'm gonna tame the proud.