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Bob Dylan Quotes (1941-)
Writer, Poet, Singer
About Bob Dylan
Bob Dylan (born Robert Allen Zimmerman on May 24, 1941) is an American folk and rock singer-songwriter, born in Duluth, Minnesota. In 2016 Dylan received the Nobel Prize in Literature, "for having created new poetic expressions within the great American song tradition".
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βI'm inconsistent, even to myself.β
βAnother politician pumpin' out the piss.β
βThere's lots of pretty girls in Mozambique.β
βFools glorify themselves, trying to manipulate Satan.β
βYou have to be let alone to really accomplish anything.β
βThings should start to get interesting right about now.β
βThe ghost of electricity howls in the bones of her face.β
βWhen you gonna wake up and strengthen the things that remain?β
βTwenty years of schoolin'
And they put you on the day shiftβ
And they put you on the day shiftβ
βAll and all can only fall with a crushing but meaningless blow.β
βDon't follow leaders
Watch the parkin' metersβ
Watch the parkin' metersβ
βThat ear - I mean, Jesus, he's got to will that to the Smithsonian.β
βShe's got everything she needs, she's an artist, she don't look back.β
βCapitalism is above the law; it's said it don't count 'less it sells.β
βYesterday's just a memory; tomorrow's never what it's supposed to be.β
βThe door has closed for evermore,
If indeed there ever was a door.β
If indeed there ever was a door.β
βHow many times can a man turn his head pretending he just doesn't see?β
βSome day everything is gonna be different, when I paint my masterpiece.β
βThey say that patriotism is the last refuge to which a scoundrel clings.β
βWhile one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choirβ
Gargles in the rat race choirβ
βEven the President of the United States
Sometimes must have to stand nakedβ
Sometimes must have to stand nakedβ
βI kiss good-bye the howling beast on the borderline which separated you from me.β
βThey already expect you to just give a check to tax-deductible charity organization.β
βShedding off one more layer of skin, keeping one step ahead of the persecutor within.β
βTake me disappearing, through the smoke rings of my mind, down the foggy ruins of time...β
βSeΓ±or, seΓ±or, can you tell me where weβre heading? Lincoln County Road or Armageddon?β
βPolitician's got on his jogging shoes, he must be running for office, got no time to loseβ
βFeel like my soul is beginning to expand. Look into my heart and you will sort of understand.β
βI'm walking through the leaves falling from the trees,
Feelin' like a stranger nobody sees.β
Feelin' like a stranger nobody sees.β
βThe book of Leviticus and Deuteronomy, the law of the jungle and the sea are your only teachers.β
βBut if the arrow is straight
And the point is slick
It can pierce through dust no matter how thickβ
And the point is slick
It can pierce through dust no matter how thickβ
βYou always said people don't do what they believe in; they just do what's most convenient, then they repent.β
βA man is successful if he gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night, and in between does what he likes.β
βHave they counted the cost it'll take to bring down all the earthly principles they're gonna have to abandon?β
βI had very little in common with and knew even less about a generation that I was supposed to be the voice of.β
βWhen you think that youβve lost everything, you find out you can always lose a little more.β
βI waited for you on the running boards, near the cypress trees, while the springtime turned slowly into autumn.β
βThe rifleman's stalking the sick and the lame; preacherman seeks the same. Who'll get there first is uncertain.β
βOpportunities may come along for you to convert somethingβsomething that exists into something that didn't yet.β
βStrange how people who suffer together have stronger connections than those who are most content.β
βI think of a hero as someone who understands the degree of responsibility that comes with his freedom.β
βThere's seven people dead
On a South Dakota farm
Somewhere in the distance
There's seven new people bornβ
On a South Dakota farm
Somewhere in the distance
There's seven new people bornβ
βYou've been with the professors and they've all liked your looks. With great lawyers you've discussed lepers and crooks.β
βDon't turn away, you'll create sorrow,
Time is an ocean but it ends at the shore,
You may not see me tomorrow.β
Time is an ocean but it ends at the shore,
You may not see me tomorrow.β
βdo Not create anything, it will be
misinterpreted. it will not change.
it will follow you the rest of your life.β
misinterpreted. it will not change.
it will follow you the rest of your life.β
βNow at midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they doβ
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they doβ
βJust give to me my gravestone
With it clearly carved upon:
"I'm a long time a-comin'
An' I'll be a long time gone"β
With it clearly carved upon:
"I'm a long time a-comin'
An' I'll be a long time gone"β
βYou prayed to the Lord above
Oh please send you a friend
Your empty pockets tell yuh
That you ain't a-got no friendβ
Oh please send you a friend
Your empty pockets tell yuh
That you ain't a-got no friendβ
βWe are covered in blood, girl. You know both our forefathers were slaves. Let us hope they've found mercy in their bone-filled graves.β
βHalf-wracked prejudice leaped forth
"Rip down all hate," I screamed
Lies that life is black and white
Spoke from my skull.β
"Rip down all hate," I screamed
Lies that life is black and white
Spoke from my skull.β
βI think women rule the world, and that no man has ever done anything that a woman either hasn't allowed him to do or encouraged him to do.β
βBecause Dickens and Dostoyevsky and Woody Guthrie were telling their stories much better than I ever could, I decided to stick to my own mind.β
βAnd Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain's tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers...β
Fighting in the captain's tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers...β
βDown over the window
Comes the dazzling sunlit rays
Through the back alleys, through the blinds
Another one of them endless daysβ
Comes the dazzling sunlit rays
Through the back alleys, through the blinds
Another one of them endless daysβ
βIn the dime stores and bus stations,
People talk of situations,
Read books repeat quotations,
Draw conclusions on the wall.β
People talk of situations,
Read books repeat quotations,
Draw conclusions on the wall.β
βI lived with them on Montague Street
In a basement down the stairs
There was music in the cafes at night
And revolution in the air.β
In a basement down the stairs
There was music in the cafes at night
And revolution in the air.β
βAmerica was changing. I had a feeling of destiny and I was riding the changes... My consciousness was beginning to change, too, change and stretch.β
βCounterfeit philosophies have polluted all of your thoughts; Karl Marx has got you by the throat, and Henry Kissinger's got you tied up into knots.β
βWe live in a political world
Where peace is not welcome at all
It's turned away from the door to wander some more
Or put up against the wall.β
Where peace is not welcome at all
It's turned away from the door to wander some more
Or put up against the wall.β
βA lot of people complaining that there is no work. I say, "Why you say that for?" When nothin' you got is US-made β they don't make nothin' here no more.β
βHere's the thing with me and the religious thing. This is the flat-out truth: I find the religiosity and philosophy in the music. I don't find it anywhere else.β
βEverything passes
Everything changes
Just do what you think you should do
And someday maybe
Who knows, baby
I'll come and be cryin' to youβ
Everything changes
Just do what you think you should do
And someday maybe
Who knows, baby
I'll come and be cryin' to youβ
βGreed and lust I can understand, but I can't understand the values of definition and confinement. Definition destroys. Besides, there's nothing definite in this world.β
βYou used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next mealβ
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next mealβ
βRon Rosenbaum: When you hear your songs in your mind, it's not just you strumming alone, you mean?β
βShe said, "Welcome to the land of the living dead," but you could tell she was so brokenhearted β she said, "Even the swap meets around here are getting pretty corrupt."β
βWhat was the future? The future was a solid wall, not promising, not threateningβall bunk. No guarantees of anything, not even the guarantee that life isn't one big joke.β
βI'm a '60s troubadour, a folk-rock relic, a wordsmith from bygone days, a fictitious head of state from a place nobody knows. I'm in the bottomless pit of cultural oblivion.β
βSo if you're travelin' in the north country fair,
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline,
Remember me to one who lives there.
She once was a true love of mine.β
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline,
Remember me to one who lives there.
She once was a true love of mine.β
βI got into the driver's seat and drove down 42nd Street in my Cadillac.
Good car to drive after a war.β
Good car to drive after a war.β
βYou go watch the geek, who immediately walks up to you when he hears you speak, and says, how does it feel to be such a freak?, and you say, impossible as he hands you a bone.β
βThrow my ticket out the window,
Throw my suitcase out there too,
Throw my troubles out the door, I don't need them anymore,
'Cause tonight I'll be staying here with you.β
Throw my suitcase out there too,
Throw my troubles out the door, I don't need them anymore,
'Cause tonight I'll be staying here with you.β
βOh all the money that in my whole life I did spend
Be it mine right or wrongfully
I let it slip gladly past the hands of my friends
To tie up the time most forcefullyβ
Be it mine right or wrongfully
I let it slip gladly past the hands of my friends
To tie up the time most forcefullyβ
βAn artist has gotta be careful never really to arrive at a place where he thinks he's at somewhere. You always have to realize that you're constantly in a state of becoming.β
βThe geometry of innocent flesh on the bone
Causes Galileo's math book to get thrown
At Delilah's who sitting worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughterβ
Causes Galileo's math book to get thrown
At Delilah's who sitting worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughterβ
βI'm out here a thousand miles from my home
Walkin' a road other men have gone down
I'm seein' your world of people and things
Your paupers and peasants and princes and kingsβ
Walkin' a road other men have gone down
I'm seein' your world of people and things
Your paupers and peasants and princes and kingsβ
βYou must leave, now take what you need, You think will last
But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast
Yonder stands your orphan with his gun
Crying like a fire in the sun.β
But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast
Yonder stands your orphan with his gun
Crying like a fire in the sun.β
βYou don't necessarily have to write to be a poet. Some people work in gas stations and they're poets. I don't call myself a poet because I don't like the word. I'm a trapeze artist.β
βCome Congressmen, Senators, please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway, don't block up the hall
For he who gets hurt will be he who has stalled
Thereβs a battle outside and it's raginβ.β
Don't stand in the doorway, don't block up the hall
For he who gets hurt will be he who has stalled
Thereβs a battle outside and it's raginβ.β
βI am a writer an a singer of the words I write I am no speaker nor any politician an my songs speak for me because I write them in the confinement of my own mind an have t cope with no one except my own self.β
βTweeter and the Monkey Man were hard up for cash
They stayed up all night selling cocaine and hash
To an undercover cop who had a sister named Jan
Who for reasons unexplained she loved the Monkey Manβ
They stayed up all night selling cocaine and hash
To an undercover cop who had a sister named Jan
Who for reasons unexplained she loved the Monkey Manβ
βHere comes the story of The Hurricane, the man the authorities came to blame for something that he never done. Put in a prison cell, but one time he coulda been the champion of the world.β
βHey, hey, Woody Guthrie, I wrote you a song,
'Bout a funny ol' world that's a-comin' along
Seems sick an' it's hungry, it's tired an' it's torn
It looks like it's a-dyin' an' it's hardly been bornβ
'Bout a funny ol' world that's a-comin' along
Seems sick an' it's hungry, it's tired an' it's torn
It looks like it's a-dyin' an' it's hardly been bornβ
βA woman just gave birth to a prince today and dressed him in scarlet. He'll put the priest in his pocket, put the blade to the heat, take the motherless children off the street and place them at the feet of a harlot.β
βI'm listening to Billy Joe Shaver
And I'm reading James Joyce
Some people they tell me
I've got the blood of the land in my voiceβ
And I'm reading James Joyce
Some people they tell me
I've got the blood of the land in my voiceβ
βAll along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants too
Outside in the distance, a wild cat did growl
Two riders were approaching. The wind began to howl.β
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants too
Outside in the distance, a wild cat did growl
Two riders were approaching. The wind began to howl.β
βMay your hands always be busy. May your feet always be swift. May you have a strong foundation when the winds of changes shift. May your heart always be joyful. May your song always be sung. May you stay forever young.β
βIt wasn't money or love that I was looking for. I had a heightened sense of awareness, was set in my ways, impractical and a visionary to boot. My mind was strong like a trap and I didn't need any guarantee of validity.β
βThereβs smoke on the water, itβs been there since June
Tree trunks uprooted, 'neath the high crescent moon
Feel the pulse and vibration and the rumbling force
Somebody is out there beating on a dead horseβ
Tree trunks uprooted, 'neath the high crescent moon
Feel the pulse and vibration and the rumbling force
Somebody is out there beating on a dead horseβ
βCome mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is rapidly agin'.β
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is rapidly agin'.β
βHey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.
In the jingle-jangle morning, I'll come following you.β
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.
In the jingle-jangle morning, I'll come following you.β
βInside the museums, 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 smilesβ
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 smilesβ
βRing them bells Sweet Martha
For the poor man's son
Ring them bells so the world will know
That God is one
Oh, the shepherd is asleep
Where the willows weep
And the mountains are filled with lost sheep.β
For the poor man's son
Ring them bells so the world will know
That God is one
Oh, the shepherd is asleep
Where the willows weep
And the mountains are filled with lost sheep.β
β'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue, the road was full of mud.
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form,
'Come in,' she said, 'I'll give you shelter from the storm.'β
When blackness was a virtue, the road was full of mud.
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form,
'Come in,' she said, 'I'll give you shelter from the storm.'β
βAll that foreign oil controlling American soil. Look around you, it's just bound to make you embarrassed: sheiks walking around like kings, wearing fancy jewels and nose rings, deciding America's future from Amsterdam and to Paris.β
βDarkness 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 tryingβ
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 tryingβ
βDisillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Make everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much is really sacredβ
As human gods aim for their mark
Make everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much is really sacredβ
β[Recounting a scene in The Gunfighter] Turn him loose, let him go, let him say he outdrew me fair and square β I want him to feel what it's like to every moment face his death.β
βWell, I see you got your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat
Yes, I see you got your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat
Well, you must tell me, baby
How your head feels under somethin' like that
Under your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hatβ
Yes, I see you got your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat
Well, you must tell me, baby
How your head feels under somethin' like that
Under your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hatβ
βBob Dylan: I do know what my songs are about.
Playboy: And what's that?
Bob Dylan: Oh, some are about four minutes; some are about five, and some, believe it or not, are about eleven or twelve.β
Playboy: And what's that?
Bob Dylan: Oh, some are about four minutes; some are about five, and some, believe it or not, are about eleven or twelve.β
βIf your memory serves you well, I was gonna confiscate your lace and wrap it up in a sailor's knot and hide it in your case.
And if I knew for sure that it was yours, it was oh so hard to tell, and you know that we shall meet again, if your memory serves you well.β
And if I knew for sure that it was yours, it was oh so hard to tell, and you know that we shall meet again, if your memory serves you well.β
βI asked the doctor if I could see you
It's bad for your health, he said
Well, I disobeyed his orders, I came to see you but I found him there instead
Well, I don't mind him cheating on me but I sure wish he'd take that off his head
Your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hatβ
It's bad for your health, he said
Well, I disobeyed his orders, I came to see you but I found him there instead
Well, I don't mind him cheating on me but I sure wish he'd take that off his head
Your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hatβ
βCome writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who that it's naming.β
For the loser now will be later to winβ
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who that it's naming.β
For the loser now will be later to winβ
βThere's no black and white, left and right to me anymore; there's only up and down and down is very close to the ground. And I'm trying to go up without thinking about anything trivial such as politics. They has got nothing to do with it. I'm thinking about the general people and when they get hurt.β
βJohnny's in the basement
Mixing up the medicine
I'm on the pavement
Thinking about the government
The man in the trenchcoat
Badge out, laid off
Says he's got a bad cough
Wants to get it paid off
Look out kid
It's somethin' you did
God knows when
But you're doin' it againβ
Mixing up the medicine
I'm on the pavement
Thinking about the government
The man in the trenchcoat
Badge out, laid off
Says he's got a bad cough
Wants to get it paid off
Look out kid
It's somethin' you did
God knows when
But you're doin' it againβ
βBackstage the girls were playin' five-card stud by the stairs,
Lily had two queens, she was hopin' for a third to match her pair.
Outside the streets were fillin' up, the window was open wide,
A gentle breeze was blowin', you could feel it from inside.
Lily called another bet and drew up the Jack of Hearts.β
Lily had two queens, she was hopin' for a third to match her pair.
Outside the streets were fillin' up, the window was open wide,
A gentle breeze was blowin', you could feel it from inside.
Lily called another bet and drew up the Jack of Hearts.β
βI think it's the land. The streams, the forests, the vast emptiness. The land created me. I'm wild and lonesome. Even as I travel the cities, I'm more at home in the vacant lots. But I have a love for humankind, a love of truth, and a love of justice. I think I have a dualistic nature. I'm more of an adventurous type than a relationship type.β
βI had been in a motorcycle accident and I'd been hurt, but I recovered. Truth was that I wanted to get out of the rat race. Having children changed my life and segregated me from just about everybody and everything that was going on. Outside of my family, nothing held any real interest for me and I was seeing everything through different glasses.β
βCome gather βround people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown.
And accept it that soon
Youβll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you is worth savinβ
Then you better start swimmin' or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.β
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown.
And accept it that soon
Youβll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you is worth savinβ
Then you better start swimmin' or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.β
βAt certain times I read a lot of poetry. My favorite poets are Shelley and Keats. Rimbaud is so identifiable. Lord Byron. I don't know. Lately if I read poems, it's like I can always hear the guitar. Even with Shakespeare's sonnets I can hear a melody because it's all broken up into timed phrases so I hear it. I always keep thinking, 'What kind of song would this be?'β
βWhen I first heard Elvis's voice I just knew that I wasn't going to work for anybody and nobody was going to be my boss. He is the deity supreme of rock and roll religion as it exists in today's form. Hearing him for the first time was like busting out of jail. I think for a long time that freedom to me was Elvis singing 'Blue Moon of Kentucky.' I thank God for Elvis.β
βAs a performer I've played for 50,000 people and I've played for 50 people and I can tell you that it is harder to play for 50 people. 50,000 people have a singular persona, not so with 50. Each person has an individual, separate identity, a world unto themselves. They can perceive things more clearly. Your honesty and how it relates to the depth of your talent is tried.β
βI was heading for the fantastic lights. No doubt about it. Could it be that I was being deceived? Not likely. I don't think I had enough imagination to be deceived; had no false hope, either. I'd come from a long ways off and had started from a long ways down. But now destiny was about to manifest itself. I felt like it was looking right at me and nobody else.β
βThe road out would be treacherous, and I didnβt know where it would lead but I followed it anyway. It was a strange world ahead that would unfold, a thunderhead of a world with jagged lightning edges. Many got it wrong and never did get it right. I went straight into it. It was wide open. One thing for sure, not only was it not run by God, but it wasnβt run by the devil either.β
βI accept chaos. I am not sure whether it accepts me. I know there are some people terrified of the bomb, but there are others terrified to be seen carrying a Modern Screen magazine. Experience teaches that silence terrifies the most.β
βOh God said to Abraham, Kill me a son.
Abe says, Man, you must be puttin' me on.
God say, No. Abe say, What?
God say, You can do what you want Abe, but
the next time you see me comin' you better run.
Well Abe says, Where do you want this killin' done?
God says, Out on Highway 61.β
Abe says, Man, you must be puttin' me on.
God say, No. Abe say, What?
God say, You can do what you want Abe, but
the next time you see me comin' you better run.
Well Abe says, Where do you want this killin' done?
God says, Out on Highway 61.β
β[Ref Rimbaud line**Letter to Georges Izambard; Charleville, 13 May 1871 'Je est un autre,]' βwhich translates into βI is someone else.β When I read those words the bells went off. It made perfect sense. I wished someone would have mentioned that to me earlier.ββ
βI had no answers to any of those questions any more than any other performer did, really. But, you know, that didn't stop the press or people or whoever they were from asking these questions. They, for some reason the press thought that performers had the answers to all these problems in the society and you know, like what can... What can you say to something like that? I mean, it's just kind of absurd.β
βGo away from my window,
Leave at your own chosen speed,
I'm not the one you want, babe,
I'm not the one you need.
You say you're looking for someone,
Who's never weak but always strong,
To protect you and defend you,
Whether you are right or wrong,
Someone to open each and every door,
But it ain't me, babe,
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're looking for, babe.β
Leave at your own chosen speed,
I'm not the one you want, babe,
I'm not the one you need.
You say you're looking for someone,
Who's never weak but always strong,
To protect you and defend you,
Whether you are right or wrong,
Someone to open each and every door,
But it ain't me, babe,
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're looking for, babe.β
βYes, I received your letter yesterday
(About the time the door knob broke)
When you asked how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can't read too good
Don't send me no more letters no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row
β
(About the time the door knob broke)
When you asked how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can't read too good
Don't send me no more letters no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row
β
βMy sense of rhyme used to be more involved in my songwriting than it is... Still staying in the unconscious frame of mind, you can pull yourself out and throw up two rhymes first and work it back. You get the rhymes first and work it back and then see if you can make it make sense in another kind of way. You can still stay in the unconscious frame of mind to pull it off, which is the state of mind you have to be in anyway.β
βI had ambitions to set out and find, like an odyssey or going home somewhere... set out to find... this home that I'd left a while back and couldn't remember exactly where it was, but I was on my way there. And encountering what I encountered on the way was how I envisioned it all. I didn't really have any ambition at all. I was born very far from where I'm supposed to be, and so, I'm on my way home, you know?β
βWell, God is in His heaven
And we all want what's his
But power and greed and corruptible seed
Seem to be all that there is
I'm gazing out the window
Of the St. James Hotel
And I know no one can sing the blues
Like Blind Willie McTellβ
And we all want what's his
But power and greed and corruptible seed
Seem to be all that there is
I'm gazing out the window
Of the St. James Hotel
And I know no one can sing the blues
Like Blind Willie McTellβ
βHe's a pinboy. He also wears suspenders. He's a real person. You know him, but not by that name... I saw him come into the room one night and he looked like a camel. He proceeded to put his eyes in his pocket. I asked this guy who he was and he said, "That's Mr. Jones." Then I asked this cat, "Doesn't he do anything but put his eyes in his pocket?" And he told me, "He puts his nose on the ground." It's all there, it's a true story.β
βIt's not a character like in a book or a movie. He's not a bus driver. He doesn't drive a forklift. He's not a serial killer. It's me who's singing that, plain and simple. We shouldn't confuse singers and performers with actors. Actors will say, βMy character this, and my character that.β Like beating a dead horse. Who cares about the character? Just get up and act. You don't have to explain it to me.β
βThrough the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail,
The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder,
That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder
Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind,
Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind,
An' the poet and the painter far behind his rightful time
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.β
The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder,
That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze
Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder
Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind,
Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind,
An' the poet and the painter far behind his rightful time
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.β
βFar between sundown's finish an' midnight's broken toll,
We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing.
As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds,
Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing.
Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight,
Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight,
An' for each an' ev'ry underdog soldier in the night,
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.β
We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing.
As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds,
Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing.
Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight,
Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight,
An' for each an' ev'ry underdog soldier in the night,
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.β
βMeanwhile, far away in another part of town,
Rubin Carter and a couple of friends are drivinβ around.
Number one contender for the middleweight crown,
Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down.
When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road,
Just like the time before and the time before that.
In Paterson thatβs just the way things go:
If youβre black you might as well not show up on the street
βLess you wanna draw the heat.β
Rubin Carter and a couple of friends are drivinβ around.
Number one contender for the middleweight crown,
Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down.
When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road,
Just like the time before and the time before that.
In Paterson thatβs just the way things go:
If youβre black you might as well not show up on the street
βLess you wanna draw the heat.β
βWilliam Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll
With a cane that he twirled around his Diamond ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel society gathβrinβ
And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him
As they rode him in custody down to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ainβt the time for your tears.β
With a cane that he twirled around his Diamond ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel society gathβrinβ
And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him
As they rode him in custody down to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ainβt the time for your tears.β
βGentlemen, he said I don't need your organization, I've shined your shoes
I've moved your mountains and marked your cards
But Eden is burning either get ready for elimination
Or else your hearts must have the courage for the changing of the guards
Peace will come with tranquility and splendor on the wheels of fire
But will offer no reward when her false idols fall
And cruel death surrenders with its pale ghost retreating
Between the King and the Queen of Swordsβ
I've moved your mountains and marked your cards
But Eden is burning either get ready for elimination
Or else your hearts must have the courage for the changing of the guards
Peace will come with tranquility and splendor on the wheels of fire
But will offer no reward when her false idols fall
And cruel death surrenders with its pale ghost retreating
Between the King and the Queen of Swordsβ
βIt's peculiar and unnerving in a way to see so many young people walking around with cellphones and iPods in their ears and so wrapped up in media and video games. It robs them of their self-identity. It's a shame to see them so tuned out to real life. Of course they are free to do that, as if that's got anything to do with freedom. The cost of liberty is high, and young people should understand that before they start spending their life with all those gadgets.β
βI find it easy to write songs. I been writing songs for a long time and the words to the songs aren't written out just for the paper; they're written as you can read it, you dig. If you take whatever there is to the song awayβthe beat, the melodyβI could still recite it. I see nothing wrong with songs you can't do that with eitherβsongs that, if you took the beat and the melody away, they wouldn't stand up because they're not supposed to do that, you know. Songs are songs.β
βSometimes you say things in songs even if there's a small chance of them being true. And sometimes you say things that have nothing to do with the truth of what you want to say and sometimes you say things that everyone knows to be true. Then again, at the same time, you're thinking that the only truth on earth is that there is no truth on it. Whatever you are saying, you're saying in a ricky-tick way. There's never time to reflect. You stitched and pressed and packed and drove, is what you did.β
βLike Shakespeare, I too am often occupied with the pursuit of my creative endeavors and dealing with all aspects of life's mundane matters. "Who are the best musicians for these songs?" "Am I recording in the right studio?" "Is this song in the right key?" Some things never change, even in 400 years. Not once have I ever had the time to ask myself, "Are my songs literature?" So, I do thank the Swedish Academy, both for taking the time to consider that very question, and, ultimately, for providing such a wonderful answer.β
βWilliam Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years
Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him
And high office relations in the politics of Maryland
Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling
In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ainβt the time for your tears.β
Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him
And high office relations in the politics of Maryland
Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling
In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ainβt the time for your tears.β
βDylan: Well, no, it is to begin with. But then I always hear other instruments, how they should sound. The closest I ever got to the sound I hear in my mind was on individual bands in the Blonde on Blonde album. It's that thin, that wild mercury sound. It's metallic and bright gold, with whatever that conjures up. That's my particular sound. I haven't been able to succeed in getting it all the time. Mostly, I've been driving at a combination of guitar, harmonica and organ, but now I find myself going into territory that has more percussion in it and [pause] rhythms of the soul.β
βReporter: How many people who labor in the same musical vineyard in which you toil - how many are protest singers? That is, people who use their music, and use the songs to protest the, uh, social state in which we live today: the matter of war, the matter of crime, or whatever it might be.
Bob Dylan: Um...how many?
Reporter: Yes. How many?
Bob Dylan: Uh, I think there's about, uh...136.
Reporter: You say about 136, or you mean exactly 136?
Bob Dylan: Uh, it's either 136 or 142.β
Bob Dylan: Um...how many?
Reporter: Yes. How many?
Bob Dylan: Uh, I think there's about, uh...136.
Reporter: You say about 136, or you mean exactly 136?
Bob Dylan: Uh, it's either 136 or 142.β
βAll is gone, all is gone, admit it, take flight.
I gagged twice, doubled, tears blinding my sight.
My mind it was mangled, I ran into the night
Leaving all of love's ashes behind me.
I gagged twice, doubled, tears blinding my sight.
My mind it was mangled, I ran into the night
Leaving all of love's ashes behind me.
The wind knocks my window, the room it is wet.
The words to say I'm sorry, I haven't found yet.
I think of her often and hope whoever she's met
Will be fully aware of how precious she is.
Ah, my friends from the prison, they ask unto me,
"How good, how good does it feel to be free?"
And I answer them most mysteriously,
"Are birds free from the chains of the skyway?"β
βHattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchen
She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children
Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage
And never sat once at the head of the table
And didnβt even talk to the people at the table
Who just cleande up all the food from the table
And emptied the ashtrays in a whole other level
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
That sailed through the air and came down through the room
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle
And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ainβt the time for your tears.β
She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children
Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage
And never sat once at the head of the table
And didnβt even talk to the people at the table
Who just cleande up all the food from the table
And emptied the ashtrays in a whole other level
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
That sailed through the air and came down through the room
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle
And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ainβt the time for your tears.β
βIn the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gravel
To show that allβs equal and that the courts are on the level
And the strings in the books ainβt pulled and persuaded
And that even the nobles get properly handled
Once that the cops have chased after and caught Β΄em
And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom
Stared at the person who killed for no reason
Who just happened to be feelinβ that way without warninβ
And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance
William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence
Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Bury the rag deep in your face
For nowβs the time for your tears.β
To show that allβs equal and that the courts are on the level
And the strings in the books ainβt pulled and persuaded
And that even the nobles get properly handled
Once that the cops have chased after and caught Β΄em
And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom
Stared at the person who killed for no reason
Who just happened to be feelinβ that way without warninβ
And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance
William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence
Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Bury the rag deep in your face
For nowβs the time for your tears.β
βI began to think about William Shakespeare, the great literary figure. I would reckon he thought of himself as a dramatist. The thought that he was writing literature couldn't have entered his head. His words were written for the stage. Meant to be spoken not read. When he was writing Hamlet, I'm sure he was thinking about a lot of different things: "Who're the right actors for these roles?" "How should this be staged?" "Do I really want to set this in Denmark?" His creative vision and ambitions were no doubt at the forefront of his mind, but there were also more mundane matters to consider and deal with. "Is the financing in place?" "Are there enough good seats for my patrons?" "Where am I going to get a human skull?" I would bet that the farthest thing from Shakespeare's mind was the question "Is this literature?"β
βBob Dylan: The media is all-pervasive. What can a writer think of to write that you don't see every day in a newspaper or on television?
Interviewer: ...Do you think that TV and the media have killed poetry and literature?
Bob Dylan: Oh, absolutely. Absolutely. ... What's a writer to do if every idea is exposed in the media before he can get to it or let it evolve? What's a writer gonna write about? ... We're living in a science-fiction world. We're living in a world that Disney has conquered. Disney's science fiction. Theme parks, trendy streets, it's all science fiction. So I would say, if a writer has got something to say, he'll have to do it in thatβ
Interviewer: Outside of the real world?
Bob Dylan: There is a real world. Science fiction has become the real world. Whether we realize it or not, it has.β
Interviewer: ...Do you think that TV and the media have killed poetry and literature?
Bob Dylan: Oh, absolutely. Absolutely. ... What's a writer to do if every idea is exposed in the media before he can get to it or let it evolve? What's a writer gonna write about? ... We're living in a science-fiction world. We're living in a world that Disney has conquered. Disney's science fiction. Theme parks, trendy streets, it's all science fiction. So I would say, if a writer has got something to say, he'll have to do it in thatβ
Interviewer: Outside of the real world?
Bob Dylan: There is a real world. Science fiction has become the real world. Whether we realize it or not, it has.β
Bob Dylan Quotes by Topic
Find exactly what you are looking for by browsing this categorized list of Bob Dylan quotes by topic.
Bob Dylan on Love 2 quotes
View all 2 quotes on Love →Bob Dylan on War 2 quotes
βIf Godβs on our side/Theyβll stop the next warβ
Bob Dylan on Truth 2 quotes
βTruth is an arrow and the gate is narrow...that it passes throughβ
Bob Dylan on I Ching 2 quotes
βI threw the I-Ching yesterday, it said there might be some thunder at the well.β
Bob Dylan on Now 2 quotes
βThe line it is drawn The curse it is cast The slow one now Will later be fast As the present now Will later be past The order is rapidly fadinβ And the first one now will later be last For the times they are a-changinβ.β
What Bob Dylan Said About Others
Discover personal opinions Bob Dylan shared regarding contemporaries.
Bob Dylan on Jack Kerouac 2 quotes
βI read On the Road in maybe 1959. It changed my life like it changed everyone else's.β
Bob Dylan on Joan Baez 2 quotes
βShe was something else, almost too much to take. Her voice was like that of a siren from off some Greek island. Just the sound of it could put you into a spell. She was an enchantress. You'd have to get yourself strapped to the mast like Odysseus and plug up your ears so you wouldn't hear her. She'd make you forget who you were.β
Bob Dylan on Woody Guthrie 2 quotes
βGuthrie, he had a particular sound. And besides that, he said something to go along with his sound. That was highly unusual to my ears. He was a radical, his songs had a radical slant. I thought, "Ooh", you know, like... "That's what I want to sing. I want to sing that." I couldn't believe that I'd never heard of this man. You could listen to his songs, and actually learn how to live.β
Bob Dylan on Amy Winehouse
βThe last real individualist.β
Quotes About Bob Dylan
Gain deeper perspective through quotes about Bob Dylan from others.
Jim DeRogatis on Bob Dylan
βBob Dylan's enormous influence on mid-'60s rock not only led directly to the birth of folk rock but also inspired the psychedelic rockers who followed.β
Rob Power of on Bob Dylan
βHe might rarely pick up a six-string these days, but back in the day, Dylan started a folk revolution with nothing but a beat-up old acoustic and a suitcase full of songs. Dylan made it look so easy that a legion of earnest young strummers picked up the guitar. They discovered the truth when they started trying to play like him, though. Elaborate fingerpicking, open tunings, ear-catching runs and an impeccable sense of rhythm were the foundation that the Dylan legend was built on. He sourced his skills from legends of folk and blues, and combined them into something bitingly original. Hands down the best singer-songwriter ever to do it.β
Dave Lifton of on Bob Dylan
βIt took Bob Dylan to break the ice between the [country and rock music] camps. [...] While it would be a stretch to call Blonde on Blonde a country-rock record, the fact that Dylan, arguably the most important person in rock at the time, cut an album in the home of country music soon brought an influx of other musicians to Nashville. As Charlie McCoy, the multi-instrumentalist who starred on Blonde told Nashville Scene in 2011, βThat's when the floodgates opened."β
Joan Baez on Bob Dylan
βThe Nobel Prize for Literature is yet another step towards immortality for Bob Dylan. The rebellious, reclusive, unpredictable artist/composer is exactly where the Nobel Prize for Literature needs to be. His gift with words is unsurpassable. Out of my repertoire spanning 60 years, no songs have been more moving and worthy in their depth, darkness, fury, mystery, beauty and humour than Bob's. None has been more of a pleasure to sing. None will come again.β
About Bob Dylan
Bob Dylan (born Robert Allen Zimmerman on May 24, 1941) is an American folk and rock singer-songwriter, born in Duluth, Minnesota. In 2016 Dylan received the Nobel Prize in Literature, "for having created new poetic expressions within the great American song tradition".