Quotes About Urban

Homosexuals are thus drawn to certain grimy urban neighborhoods,

When you operate in an overbuilt metropolis, you have to hack your way with a meat axe," said Moses in response to the new challenges. "I'm just going to keep right on building. You do the best you can to stop it.

We are bored in the city, to still discover mysteries on the signs along the street, latest state of humor and poetry, requires getting damned tired... Gilles Ivain (aka Ivan Chtcheglov)

At the very opposite of these eccentricities, the chiefly urban character of derive, in touch with those centres of possibilities and meanings that are the metropolises transformed by industry, would correspond to Marx's sentence: 'Men can see nothing around them that is not their own image; everything speaks to them of themselves. Their very landscape is alive.

Not manic and hell-bent like New York

the city one knew and recognized, lived in and loved the way you love a person.

LA is the me city, Ruby said, and New York is the you city. In LA it's fuck me . In New York it's fuck you .

Every time you hear a car alarm, Ruby said, another New Yorker has gone to hell.

Traffic was as much an emotional problem as it was a mechanical one.

In America, a pedestrian is someone who has just parked their car.

Intersections are crash magnets.

using parking meters as walking sticks.

Yes, but Father," he wanted to say from the back seat of a rapidly filling bus, "you never told us how to spend time alone in the midst of half a million people. Here, stars don't shine at night, trees don't speak.

You never told us how to spend time alone in the midst of half a million people. Here, stars don't shine at night, trees don't speak.

The shape of the city changes all the time. A man can go to bed rich with 100 acres and wake up poor with property the area of a postage stamp.

you're never more than twenty yards away from an estate agent!

classic single 'Down In The Tube Station at Midnight

ah've been on t'dole all mi life in fucking Leeds!

From the doorway I looked back at the street. The car parked outside was

Urban Fantasy is the orphan left on the doorstep that no-one knows what to do with.

Still, while the Old Testament God of Genesis might well have used the sixth day of the week to create all the creatures that lived on dry land, in the contemporary epoch Fridays, surely, are more readily associated with winding down than embarking on bold new exercises in urban development.

Nobody crossed the Directions, not even the police. Because the Directions worked for The Smoke. Reuben headed south, moving from alley to alley, keeping close to the buildings and ducking beneath windows.

The hoverlanes were murder.

It is said, in Imardin, that the wind has a soul, and that it wails through the narrow streets because it is grieved by what it finds there.