Quotes About Urban

The "lamp of the poor" is hardly visible in urban southwestern Ontario, although there are many poor who move disjointedly beneath it. And the stars are seldom clearly seen above the pollution of prosperity.

In vogue and cosmopolitan they clutch their Pomeranians and walk among the millionaires or watch from swayback steamer chairs

In the city people are moving down sidewalks, up and down escalators, along aisles; they are stationed in the driver's seat of buses, at gas pumps, computers, and cash registers. There is a low-intensity fear in them. They avoid turning in certain directions, flailing their arms or poking their hands in certain ways. They respect invisible barriers.

Jeremiah had said Dead End was like New York, but with fewer naked cowboys. I'd responded that New York was like Dead End, but with fewer gator wranglers.

The collapse of the Tower of Babel is perhaps the central urban myth. It is certainly the most disquieting. In Babylon, the great city that fascinated and horrified the Biblical writers, people of different races and languages, drawn together in pursuit of wealth, tried for the first time to live together - and failed.

Johannesburg is weird, because half of it is like Los Angeles. It feels like just wealthy parts of L.A. But half of it is severe slummy, something like Rio De Janiero or something. So it's kind of weird, because it's both happening at the same time.

Do I wear a helmet? Ugh. I do when I'm riding through a precarious part of town, meaning Midtown traffic. But when I'm riding on secure protected lanes or on the paths that run along the Hudson or through Central Park - no, I don't wear the dreaded helmet then.

In New York City, you can walk down the street and see a girl in a trench who looks equally as cool as a girl wearing Lululemon. It's like you're watching models. You see a little of everything right by you.

Everything in New York is a fight. It's a fight to get on the subway. It's a fight to go to CVS. It's a fight to get a cab. And eventually, it wears you down.

I love being in a city with great weather.

Concrete is, essentially, the color of bad weather.

That New York energy, when you've got the benefit of great weather, it really is terrific. You look up at that skyline, and the Empire State Building is literally in your eyesight - there's nothing like that.

In L.A., it's very hard to have some kind of conscience of some style out there. The weather's too hot; there's no seasons.

One of the reasons I moved to San Francisco was the weather. And then I realized that I really don't like being outside.

London is like no other city I know in its ability to become beautiful. You can suddenly turn a corner and there are odd moments - of light, of weather.

I recognize that it is through the engagement with my craft - by recognizing an idea and drawing it out, building physical models, collaborating with experts, constructing the sculptures at urban scale, and maintaining them through years of weather and interaction with the public - that a new art for cities has become real.

In Rio we built a Center of Operations, a situation room that gathers information from municipal departments and allows us to manage and help decision-making. I can check the weather, the traffic and the location of city's waste collection trucks. Each of 4,000 buses in the city has a camera connected to the situation room.

It's a love-and-hate relationship with New York. Much like Hong Kong, it's expensive, crowded, the weather is not so nice. But New York is home, and I love New York.

I cycle, especially in warm weather. If I have a meeting in town, I would rather cycle than go by car.

In Mumbai we do get those two weeks of nice weather.

There's a smartphone gait: the slow sidewalk weave that comes from being lost in conversation rather than looking where you're going.

Nothing beats weaving through the rush-hour traffic or whizzing past the eternal gridlock that is the Strand.

The world's urban poor and the illiterate are going to be increasingly disadvantaged and are in danger of being left behind. The web has added a new dimension to the gap between the first world and the developing world. We have to start talking about a human right to connect.

I moved to the city in August of 1980, and someone I thought was a friend had an apartment in this wedding cake of a building, so I slept on her couch for a few days.