Bob Dylan [playing charades]. He couldn't get the hang of the 'how many syllables?' thing at all

Simon and Garfunkel had dinner one night, then played charades. At least they tried to play charades. They were terrible at it. The best thing I can say about them is that they were better than Bob Dylan. He couldn't get the hang of the 'how many syllables?' thing at all. He couldn't do 'sounds like' either come to think of it. One of the best lyricists in the world, the greatest man of letters on the history of rock music, and he can't seem to tell you whether a word's got one syllable or two syllables or what it rhymes with! He was so hopeless, I started throwing oranges at him.

E.H. John, Me (2019), 129

You actually have to like jazz to follow it

Jazz is hard to follow; I mean you actually have to like jazz to follow it; and my motto is, never follow anything. I don't know what the motto of the young generation is, but I would think they have to follow their parents. I mean, what would some parents say to his kid if the kid came home with a glass eye, a Charlie Mingus record and a pocketful of feathers? He'd say: 'Who are you following?" And the poor kid would have to stand there with water in their shoes, a bow tie on his ear, and soot pouring out of his belly button and say: "Jazz, Father, I've started following jazz."

Bob Dylan, originally in Playboy (1966), in C. Ricks, Dylan's Visions of Sin (2003), 143

In break-up terms, the equivalent of piling his ex-lover's belongings in a heap and setting fire to them

[Dylan] returned at Yarrow's urging for an acoustic encore of 'Mr Tambourine Man' and, telling, 'It's All Over Now, Baby Blue'. Unsettled and irate, he then went off and wrote the scornful 'Positively 4th Street' - in break-up terms, the equivalent of piling his ex-lover's belongings in a heap and setting fire to them.

D. Lynskey, 33 Revolutions per minute: a history of protest songs (2010), 86