Quotes About Urban

Sometimes, I think if you took all the universities and all the hospitals out of greater Boston, you'd be able to fit what's left into about six city blocks

It is the dull urban blight beyond them that is most likely to be bulldozed away in the next century, to be replaced by greenbelts, botanical parks,

Wat ik opschrijf is (...) het levensverhaal van een dolende pelgrim in de woestijn van glas en beton die maatschappij heet.

By necessity, we are direct and swift in speech and movement. This is the true dynamic that underlies our apocryphal rudeness. Also true: we do not make eye contact. Neither do we encourage it. Consider the number of humans a New Yorker will pass on a given day – on the subway, in a train or bus terminal, in an office or simply walking down the street. To facilitate speed and minimize drama, it's productive to keep one's eyes focused ahead.

For all the energy directed toward the stratagem of big city living, New Yorkers are never too distracted to respond to, and more often, proactively assist visitors. Tourists tracing the routes of subway maps with their fingers, squinting at street signs or staring at a slip of paper with confusion are typical recipients of our generosity. We know our city can be as challenging as it is fascinating, and we want visitors to have a good experience.

Las ciudades desiertas o desenterradas son incomparablemente más bellas que las vivas.

Um Mercedes negro, último modelo: a unidade de base da locomoção moscovita

I have come to be convinced that it is only the unbending observance of custom that sustains life in an urban circumstance.

Enamoured pigeons coo upon the roof...

Cities force growth, and make men talkative and entertaining, but they make them artificial.

The axis of the earth sticks out visibly through the centre of each and every town or city.

Towered cities please us then, And the busy hum of men...

There is hardly one in three of us who live in the cities who is not sick with unused self.

High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture...

In the country the darkness of night is friendly and familiar, but in a city, with its blaze of lights, it is unnatural, hostile and menacing. It is like a monstrous vulture that hovers, biding its time.

Don't let the city steal your soul.

In the country the darkness of night is friendly and familiar, but in a city, with its blaze of lights, it is unnatural, hostile and menacing.

New York's a pretty big town. You might take a wrong turn and get lost." "You know," she'd said sweetly, "you might take a hint and do the same.

I had grown to love the very city in all its decrepit grandeur. I had walked every inch of it by now. I knew it in the soles of my feet, in the sturdy muscles of my calves. Surely the finding mattered more than the losing.

It's terrible sometimes, inside, he said, that's what's the trouble. You walk these streets, black and funky and cold, and there's not really a living ass to talk to, and there's nothing shaking, and there's no way of getting it out- that storm inside. You can't talk it and you can't make love with it, and when you finally try to get with it and play it, you realize nobody's listening. So you've got to listen. You got to find a way to listen.

Observing that, from this height, the city which had been so dark as he walked through it seemed to be on fire.

The projects in Harlem are hated. They are hated almost as much as policemen, and this is saying a great deal. And they are hated for the same reason: both reveal, unbearably, the real attitude of the white world, no matter how many liberal speeches are made, no matter how many lofty editorials are written, no matter how many civil-rights commissions are set up.

The people in Harlem know they are living there because white people do not think they are good enough to live anywhere else. No amount of "improvement" can sweeten this fact. Whatever money is now being earmarked to improve this, or any other ghetto, might as well be burnt. A ghetto can be improved in one way only: out of existence.

Here was the South Side—a million in captivity—stretching from this doorstep as far as the eye could see. And they didn't even read; depressed populations don't have the time or energy to spare.