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When I think of mystery, I don't think about myself. I think of the universe, like why does the moon rise when the sun falls? Caterpillars turn into butterflies? I really haven't remained a recluse.
Bob Dylan
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Bob Dylan
Age: 83
Born: 1941
Born: May 24
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More quotes by Bob Dylan
If you can't lend a hand, then get out of the way.
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I thought that he was righteous, but he's vain. Oh, somethings a telling me I wear the ball and chain.
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Broken bottles, broken plates, broken switches, broken gates. Broken dishes, broken parts, streets are filled with broken hearts.
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Sundown, yellow moon, I replay the past I know every scene by heart, they all went by so fast
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Nothing can affect my voice, it's so bad.
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There used to be a time when the idea of heroes was important. People grew up sharing those myths and legends and ideals. Now they grow up sharing McDonalds and Disneyland.
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Bent out of shape from society's pliers, cares not to come up any higher, but rather get you down in the hole that he's in.
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We never thought we could ever get old.
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After a while you earn that privacy is something you can sell, but you can't buy it back.
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Bob Dylan was again an entirely new person - this time old, craggy, cynical, and world-weary, as in Not Dark Yet.
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I've been up the mountain and I had a choice. Should I come down? So I came down. God said, Okay, you've been up on the mountain, now you go down. You're on your own, free. Check in later, but now you're on your own.
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There are degrees of happiness. You go from one to the other and then back again. It's hard to be completely happy when those around us are suffering and groaning from hunger.
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You I am sure will forgive me for sincerely remarking that you might curb your magnanimity and be more of an artist, and 'load every rift' of your subject with ore.
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Madonna, she still has not showed, we see this empty cage now corrode, where her cape of the stage once had flowed, the fiddler he now steps to the road, on the back of the fish truck that loads, while my conscience explodes.
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Ain't no use jiving, ain't no use joking, everything is broken.
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The answer is blowin' in the wind.
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The only sound that's left after the ambulances go is Cinderella sweeping up on Desolation Row.
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Johnny's in the basement Mixing up the medicine I'm on the pavement Thinking 'bout the government.
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The motorcycle black madonna Two wheeled gypsy queen.
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Crimson flames tied through my ears rolling high and mighty traps, pounced with fire on flaming roads using ideas as my maps.
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