How many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
— What are you thinking about?
— I'm free. And what do I know? I don't even know how to read.
— You know things that can't be taught.
— I know nothing. Nothing. And I wanna know. I want to... I wanna know.
— Know what?
— Everything! Why a star falls and a bird doesn't, where the sun goes at night, why the moon changes shape. I wanna know where the wind comes from.
— The wind begins in a cave: far to the north, a young god sleeps in that cave. He dreams of a girl and he sighs, and the night wind stirs with his breath.
— I wanna know all about you. Every line, every curve. I wanna know every part of you. Every beat of your heart.
All our winds and breezes are perfumed and for that reason we are glad to have them blow in our direction. The south breeze always has a violet odor; the north breeze has the fragrance of wild roses; the east breeze is perfumed with lilies-of-the-valley and the west wind with lilac blossoms. So we need no weathervane to tell us which way the wind is blowing.