I heard the tongues of angels and the tongues of men and it all sounded no different to me.

Popular music had never had lyrical sophistication of this type [like Bob Dylan]; wit, to be sure, but "Darkness at the break of noon/Shadows even the silver spoon/The handmade blade, the child's balloon/Eclipses both the sun and moon/To understand you know too soon/ There is no sense in trying"? No.

Whenever anybody does something in a big way, it's always rejected at home and accepted someplace else.

The songs are my lexicon. I believe the songs.

My songs are personal music, they're not communal. I wouldn't want people singing along with me. It would sound funny. I'm not playing campfire meetings. I don't remember anyone singing along with Elvis, Carl Perkins or Little Richard.

A cork screw to my heart, ever since we've been apart.

For whose sake did you live, for whose sake did you die? Forgive me, baby, for what I didn't do.