.."I
danced my way from the Indian festivals in Gallup, New Mexico to the
Mardi Gras in New Orleans, Louisiana with my thumb out, my eyes asleep,
my hat turned up and my head turned on...I was drifting and learning new
lessons. I was making my own depression. I rode freight trains for
kicks and got beat up for laughs...cut grass for quarters and sang for
dimes. Hitchhiked on 61,51,75,169,37,66,22, route 40 and Howard Johnson
turnpike. Got jailed for suspicion of armed robbery, got held 4 hours on
a murder rap, got busted for looking like i do, and i never done none
of them things...Somewheres back i took the time to start writing,
somewheres back i took the time to start singing, somewheres back i took
the time to start writing, but i never did take the time to find out
why i took the time to do those things...when they ask me why and where i
got started, i gotta shake my head and weave my eyes and walk away
dumbfounded...
I got recorded at Columbia after being wrote up in the Times and i still cant find the time to go back and see why and where i started doing what i'm doing. I can't tell you the influences because there's too many to mention and i might leave one out and that wouldn't be fair. Woody Guthrie, sure. Big Joe Williams, yeah. It's easy to remember those names, but what about the faces you can't find again...what about the curves and corners and cu-offs that drop out of sight and fall behind? What about the records you hear but one time? What about the coyotes call and the bulldog's bark what about the tomcats meow and milk cow's moo and the train whistle's moan? Open up your eyes and you're influenced and there's nothing you can do about it."
-BOB DYLAN (my life in a stolen moment)
"In later times my idols fell for i learned that they were only men and had reasons for their deeds which weren't mine, not mine at all. No more on them could i depend but what i learned from each forgotten god was that the battlefield was mine alone and only i could cast my stone and the symbols which by now had grown outa shape but strong in sight were seen by me in a sharper light and the symbol "beauty" still struck my guts but now with more a shameful sound and i rebelled twice as hard and ten times as proud and i walked my road and sung my song like an arch criminal who'd done no wrong and committed no crime but was screaming thru the bars at someone else's prison."
"But i'll wait though till your song is done cuz there's something about you but i don't know what...and i walked my road and sung my song like a scared poet walking on the shore kicking driftwood with my shadow afraid of the sea."
-BOB DYLAN (Joan Baez in Concert, Part 2 [jacket notes])
"i am still running i guess but my road has seen many changes for i've served my time as a refugee in mental terms and in physical terms and many a fear has vanished and many an attitude has fallen and many a dream has faded and i know i shall meet the snowy north again- but with changed eyes next time around to walk lazily down its streets and linger by the edge of the town, find old friends if they're still around, talk to the old people and the young people, running yes...but stopping for awhile embracing what i left and loving it- for i've learned by now never to expect what it cannot give me."
"Yes, I am a thief of thoughts, not i pray a stealer of souls. I have built and rebuilt upon what is waiting for the sand on the beach es carves many castles on what has been opened before my time...a word, a tune, a story, a line, keys in the wind to unlock my mind and to grant y closet thought backyard air...it is not of me to sit and ponder, wondering and wasting time...thinking of thoughts that haven't been thunk, thinking of dreams that haven't been dreamt, and new ideas that haven't been wrote and new words to fit into rhyme. if it rhymes it rhymes if it don't it don't. If it comes it comes, if it won't it won't. No, i must react and spit fast with weapons of words wrapped in tunes that've rolled thru the simple years teasing me to treat them right...to reshape them and restring them...to protect my own world from all those who'd eat it and hold it back from eating it's own food."
"...for all people laugh in the same tongue and cry in the same tongue...endless, endless, it's all endless and it's all songs...it's just one big world of song and they're all on loan if they're only turned loose to sing."
-BOB DYLAN (11 Outlined Epitaphs [liner notes])
"...never trust a cop in a raincoat...if by any chance you're caught naked in a parked car, quick, turn the radio on full blast and pretend that you're driving...when asked if you're a capitalist, rip open your shirt, sing buddy can you spare a dime with your right foot forward and proceed to chew up a dollar bill...Do not create anything, it will be mis-interpreted. It will not change. It will follow you the rest of your life...when asked what you do for a living say you laugh for a living...be suspicious of people who say that if you are not nice to them, they will commit suicide...beware of bathroom walls that've not been written on...when asked to give your real name...never give it."
-BOB DYLAN (Advice for Geraldine on her Miscellaneous Birthday)
"I will never chase a living soul into the prison grasp of my own self-love."
"...clink sings the tower, clang sang the preacher inside of the alter outside of the theater, mystery fails when treachery prevails the forgotten rosary nails itself to a cross of sand and rich men stare at their private owned murals...All is lost Cinderella...All is lost."
-BOB DYLAN (Some other kinds of Songs)
" My poems are written in a rhythym of unpoetic distortion divided by peirced ears, false eyelashes/subtracted by people constantly torturing each other. with a melodic purring line of descriptive hollowness-seen at times through dark sunglasses and other forms of psychic explosion, a song is anyting that can walk by itself/ i am called a songwriter, a poem is a naked person...some people say that i am a poet."
BOB DYLAN (bringing it all back home [jacket notes])
"...the songs on this specific record are not so much songs but rather excercises in tonal breath control...the subject matter-though meaningless as it is-has something to do with the beautiful strangers...the beautiful strangers, Vivaldi's green jacket and the holy slow train."
BOB DYLAN (Highway 61 Revisited [jacket notes])
I got recorded at Columbia after being wrote up in the Times and i still cant find the time to go back and see why and where i started doing what i'm doing. I can't tell you the influences because there's too many to mention and i might leave one out and that wouldn't be fair. Woody Guthrie, sure. Big Joe Williams, yeah. It's easy to remember those names, but what about the faces you can't find again...what about the curves and corners and cu-offs that drop out of sight and fall behind? What about the records you hear but one time? What about the coyotes call and the bulldog's bark what about the tomcats meow and milk cow's moo and the train whistle's moan? Open up your eyes and you're influenced and there's nothing you can do about it."
-BOB DYLAN (my life in a stolen moment)
"In later times my idols fell for i learned that they were only men and had reasons for their deeds which weren't mine, not mine at all. No more on them could i depend but what i learned from each forgotten god was that the battlefield was mine alone and only i could cast my stone and the symbols which by now had grown outa shape but strong in sight were seen by me in a sharper light and the symbol "beauty" still struck my guts but now with more a shameful sound and i rebelled twice as hard and ten times as proud and i walked my road and sung my song like an arch criminal who'd done no wrong and committed no crime but was screaming thru the bars at someone else's prison."
"But i'll wait though till your song is done cuz there's something about you but i don't know what...and i walked my road and sung my song like a scared poet walking on the shore kicking driftwood with my shadow afraid of the sea."
-BOB DYLAN (Joan Baez in Concert, Part 2 [jacket notes])
"i am still running i guess but my road has seen many changes for i've served my time as a refugee in mental terms and in physical terms and many a fear has vanished and many an attitude has fallen and many a dream has faded and i know i shall meet the snowy north again- but with changed eyes next time around to walk lazily down its streets and linger by the edge of the town, find old friends if they're still around, talk to the old people and the young people, running yes...but stopping for awhile embracing what i left and loving it- for i've learned by now never to expect what it cannot give me."
"Yes, I am a thief of thoughts, not i pray a stealer of souls. I have built and rebuilt upon what is waiting for the sand on the beach es carves many castles on what has been opened before my time...a word, a tune, a story, a line, keys in the wind to unlock my mind and to grant y closet thought backyard air...it is not of me to sit and ponder, wondering and wasting time...thinking of thoughts that haven't been thunk, thinking of dreams that haven't been dreamt, and new ideas that haven't been wrote and new words to fit into rhyme. if it rhymes it rhymes if it don't it don't. If it comes it comes, if it won't it won't. No, i must react and spit fast with weapons of words wrapped in tunes that've rolled thru the simple years teasing me to treat them right...to reshape them and restring them...to protect my own world from all those who'd eat it and hold it back from eating it's own food."
"...for all people laugh in the same tongue and cry in the same tongue...endless, endless, it's all endless and it's all songs...it's just one big world of song and they're all on loan if they're only turned loose to sing."
-BOB DYLAN (11 Outlined Epitaphs [liner notes])
"...never trust a cop in a raincoat...if by any chance you're caught naked in a parked car, quick, turn the radio on full blast and pretend that you're driving...when asked if you're a capitalist, rip open your shirt, sing buddy can you spare a dime with your right foot forward and proceed to chew up a dollar bill...Do not create anything, it will be mis-interpreted. It will not change. It will follow you the rest of your life...when asked what you do for a living say you laugh for a living...be suspicious of people who say that if you are not nice to them, they will commit suicide...beware of bathroom walls that've not been written on...when asked to give your real name...never give it."
-BOB DYLAN (Advice for Geraldine on her Miscellaneous Birthday)
"I will never chase a living soul into the prison grasp of my own self-love."
"...clink sings the tower, clang sang the preacher inside of the alter outside of the theater, mystery fails when treachery prevails the forgotten rosary nails itself to a cross of sand and rich men stare at their private owned murals...All is lost Cinderella...All is lost."
-BOB DYLAN (Some other kinds of Songs)
" My poems are written in a rhythym of unpoetic distortion divided by peirced ears, false eyelashes/subtracted by people constantly torturing each other. with a melodic purring line of descriptive hollowness-seen at times through dark sunglasses and other forms of psychic explosion, a song is anyting that can walk by itself/ i am called a songwriter, a poem is a naked person...some people say that i am a poet."
BOB DYLAN (bringing it all back home [jacket notes])
"...the songs on this specific record are not so much songs but rather excercises in tonal breath control...the subject matter-though meaningless as it is-has something to do with the beautiful strangers...the beautiful strangers, Vivaldi's green jacket and the holy slow train."
BOB DYLAN (Highway 61 Revisited [jacket notes])
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