Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes. Daddy's in the alley, he's looking for food.

He's hell bent for destruction, he's afraid and confused, and his brain has been mismanaged with great skill.

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.

You'll never be greater than yourself.

As long as you give my friend Jonah Lehrer a free pizza, I'll write a song about your restaurant.

The truth that I am seeking is in your missing file.

Come senators, congressmen, Please heed the call, Don't stand in the doorway, Don't block up the hall, For he that gets hurt, Will be he who has stalled, The battle outside ragin', Will soon shake your windows and rattle your walls, For the times they are a-changin'...