I See The Turning Of The Page,

Walkin' Through The Leaves Fallin' From The Trees, Feelin' Like A Stranger Nobody Sees.

If You Wanted To, It Would Be Easy To Find Some Crappy Lyrics [of Bob Dylan] From The Eighties To Undermine The Nobel Prize.

I Don't Think There's Enough Guns.

My Father Probably Thought The Capital Of The World Was Wherever He Was At The Time. It Couldn't Possibly Be Anyplace Else. Where He And His Wife Were In Their Own Home, That, For Them, Was The Capital Of The World.

For Whose Sake Did You Live, For Whose Sake Did You Die? Forgive Me, Baby, For What I Didn't Do.