Just in time for Bob Dylan to recoil from the attention, leave the city for Woodstock, and turn his back on fame.

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

There's beauty in the silver singing river There's beauty in the sunrise in the sky But none of these and nothing else can match the beauty That I remember in my true love's eyes

Patriotism is the last refuge to which a scoundrel clings.

Sundown, yellow moon, I replay the past I know every scene by heart, they all went by so fast

I'm sittin' on my watch so I can be on time.

There are a lot of places I like, but I like New Orleans better.