Top 880 Quotes & Sayings by Bob Dylan - Page 12

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

Johnny's in the basement Mixing up the medicine I'm on the pavement Thinking 'bout the government.

A lot of people don't have much food on their table. But they got a lot of forks 'n knives. And they got to cut somethin'.

It's not dark yet But it's getting there

Well, the moral of the story, The moral of this song, Is simply that one should never be Where one does not belong. So when you see your neighbor carryin' somethin', Help him with his load, And don't go mistaking Paradise For that home across the road.

Crimson flames tied through my ears Rollin' high and mighty traps Pounced with fire on flaming roads Using ideas as my maps "We'll meet on edges, soon," said I Proud 'neath heated brow. Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now. Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth "Rip down all hate," I screamed Lies that life is black and white Spoke from my skull. I dreamed Romantic facts of musketeers Foundationed deep, somehow. Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.

I didn't come out of a cereal box.

My favorite politician was Arizona Senator Barry Goldwater, who reminded me of Tom Mix, and there wasn't any way to explain that to anybody.

You must be vulnerable to be sensitive to reality. And to be vulnerable is just another way of saying that one has nothing more to lose. I don't have anything but darkness to lose.

A million faces at my feet but all I see are dark eyes.

You been down to the bottom with a bad man, babe But you're back were you belong

There doesn't seem to be any tomorrow. Every time I wake up, no matter in what position, it's always been today.

If I made records for my own pleasure, I would only record Charley Patton songs.

How many times must a man look up Before he can see the sky? Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have Before he can hear people cry? Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows That too many people have died? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind, The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Look, you know i don't wanna come on ungrateful, but that warren report, you know as well as me, just didn't make it. You know, like they might as well have asked some banana salesman from des moines, who was up in toronto on the big day, if he saw anyone around looking suspicious/.

I like Fidel Castro and his beard.

The times are a-changing and if we don't we will sink like a stone.

There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke. But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate, so let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late.

Inside the museum infinity goes up on trial. Voices echo, 'This is what salvation must be like after a while.' But Mona Lisa must have had the highway blues; you can tell by the way she smiles.

Upon four-legged forest clouds the cowboy angel rides

Night can swallow you up, yet none of it touches you. Around any corner, there's a promise of something daring and ideal and things are just getting going. There's something obscenely joyful behind every door, either that or somebody crying with their head in in their hands. A lazy rhythm looms in the dreamy air and the atmosphere pulsates with bygone duels, past-life romance, comrades requesting comrades to aid them in some way. You can't see it, but you know it's there

Any real Bob Dylan fan would sleep with Jonah Lehrer.

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am.

The truth was obscure, Too profound and too pure, To live it you had to explode

So, I don't know. I think so. It's all in the heart, whatever keeps you that way. Keeps you forever young. Forever young doesn't necessarily mean that you don't grow old, but you just have some contact with what put you where you are. You know, keep some type of contact. Anyway...

Little red wagon, little red bike, I ain’t no monkey but I know what I like.

Life is more or less a lie, but then again, that's exactly the way we want it to be.

I'm the oldest son of a crazy man, I'm in a cowboy band.

Now all the criminals in their suits and ties are free to drink martinis and watch the sunrise

She never stumbles, she's got no place to fall. She's nobody's child, the law can't touch her at all.

They're selling postcards of the hanging They're painting the passports brown The beauty parlor is filled with sailors The circus is in town Here comes the blind commissioner They've got him in a trance One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker The other is in his pants And the riot squad they're restless They need somewhere to go As Lady and I look out tonight From Desolation Row.

The hollow horn plays wasted words, proves to warn that he not busy being born is busy dying.

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

If you're looking to get silly, you better go back to from where you came. because the cops don't need you and man they expect the same.

Situations have ended sad, Relationships have all been bad.

Well the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount, But nothing really matters much it's doom alone that counts.

If my thought-dreams could be seen/ They'd probably put my head in a guillotine.

Lay down the song you strum, And rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings No voice can hope to hum.

Thinking of a series of dreams Where the time and the tempo fly And there's no exit in any direction 'Cept the one that you can't see with your eyes

Back seat drivers don’t know the feel of the wheel but they sho’ know how to make a fuss" Bob Dylan/Bonnie Raitt, “Let’s Keep It Between Us,” 1982

We are singing today of the WIPE-OUT GANG - the WIPE-OUT GANG buys, owns & operates the Insanity Factory - if you do not know where the Insanity Factory is located, you should hereby take two steps to the right, paint your teeth & go to sleep.

If you choose to live outside the law, you must obey the law more stringently than anyone.

Peace will come With tranquility and splendor on the wheels of fire But will bring us no reward when her false idols fall.

I got this grave yard woman.

Nothing is better, nothing is best, take heed of this and get plenty of rest.

Masters of the bluff and masters of the proposition, but the enemy I see wears a cloak of decency.

Maybe in the 90s or possibly in the next century people will look upon the 80s as the age of masturbation, when it was taken to the limit; that might be all that's going on right now in a big way.

Beauty walks a razors edge, someday I'll make it mine.

A poem is a naked person.

When you got nothing, you got nothin' to lose You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.

It's east to see without lookin' too far that not much is really sacred.

Patriotism is the last refuge to which a scoundrel clings.

Socialism, hypnotism, patriotism, materialism, fools making laws for the breaking of jaws.

I was lookin' high an' low for them Reds everywhere, I was lookin' in the sink an' underneath the chair. I looked way up my chimney hole, I even looked deep inside my toilet bowl.

The sun's not yellow, its chicken!

Well, it's hard to stumble And land in some muddy lagoon When it's nine below zero And three o'clock in the afternoon.

I was so much older then; I'm younger than that now. From the back pages

The drunken politician leaps upon the street where mothers weep, and the saviors who are fast asleep, they wait for you.

A song is like a dream, and you try to make it come true. They're like strange countries that you have to enter.

The National Bank at profit sells road maps for the soul.