Christ our Mighty Champion

Bob Dylan may the smartest man who ever lived:

“I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night, in the violence of a summer’s dream, in the chill of a wintry light, in the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space, in the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face. I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea. Sometimes I turn, there’s someone there, other times it’s only me. I am hanging in the balance of a perfect finished plan like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.”