Quotes About Urban

If one had asked Manucci during his days as a street urchin, as he sat, in defiance of municipal orders, astride the gun Zam-Zammah, Manucci would probably have said that ACs were hot. The first time he saw one jutting out into the street from the wall of a shop in the old city, he walked up to the noisy box and was amazed at the blast of hot air it sent straight into his face. Why do people turn on hot air in the middle of summer? he often wondered.

but I would suggest that it is instead our solitude that most disturb us, the fact that we are all but alone despite being in the heart of a city.

And the city itself was just a glow on the dark earth...

I have always thought of urban gardens - most gardens - as islands, where we create our own kingdoms, acting out our need for land, nurture and nature. On this weekend all these tiny islands wake again, each one crammed with insects, birdsong (often far better in town than country) and slow-moving people emerging into this gift of extra light.

In]the too solid three-dimensional city, I could never feel myself as anything but spectral, disintegrating, pointless, fluid.

ciudades misteriosas llenas de gente que lincha negros y pisa cucarachas strange cities full of people who lynch negroes and step on cockroaches (de Freedom Now)

La noche de la ciudad no tenía el brillo de la luna o de las estrellas; solo algunos retazos de luz amarillenta procedente de los escaparates se reflejaban en el pavimento, tornando la oscuridad todavía más negra.

In Argentina, urban poverty plummeted from 54.7 percent in 2003 to 6.5 percent in 2011, according to government data collected by the U.N.

At a time when unprecedented wildfires engulf suburban homes in Melbourne, when waters from the rising Thames flood homes in London commuter towns, and when Superstorm Sandy transforms the New York subway into a canal system, the barriers that even the most urban and privileged among us have erected to hold back the natural world are clearly starting to break down.

Rather than allowing subway and bus fares to rise while service erodes, we need to be lowering prices and expanding services—regardless of the costs. Public

So I put together a street-going rig and came up with the courier.

No matter how "right on" the upper-middle class was, no matter the social-justice proclamations of my former liberal, affluent urban "tribe," no one really expressed any objection to this unequal distribution of risk and harm.

Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.

Here is the difference between Dante, Milton, and me. They wrote about hell and never saw the place. I wrote about Chicago after looking the town over for years and years.

Hog Butcher for the World, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler; Stormy, husky, brawling, City of the Big Shoulders:

She knew there was a big Chicago far off, where all the trains ran.

I carried the trace of her lips, of her breath on my skin through streets full of faceless people escaping from offices and shops.

When I reached the street, I could still feel [her] face, her voice, and her smell, deep in my soul. I carried the trace of her lips, of her breath on my skin through streets full of faceless people escaping from offices and shops.

One by one the lights of the city went out, and I realized that I had already begun to remember.

El cielo se apagaba sobre la ciudad con nubes en tránsito.

La gente iba y venía de sus vidas en busca del metro, la compra o el olvido.

I was walking along briskly, dodging bootblacks, pen pushers returning from their midmorning coffee, lottery vendors, and a whole ballet of street sweepers who seemed to be polishing the streets with paintbrushes, unhurriedly and with a pointillist's strokes.

las nubes habían resbalado del cielo y las calles yacían sumergidas bajo una laguna de neblina ardiente

Last time she had been here, the room had been pastel, romantic and soft. Now it was icily white. It was urban, out of a slick magazine, as if some cold, successful woman lived here with two possessions and an empty refrigerator.