Quotes About Urban

Vivir en una ciudad es, notoriamente, una experiencia ambivalente. Atrae y repele, pero para complicar aún más la situación del habitante de la ciudad, son los mismos aspectos de la vida urbana, intermitentemente o de manera simultánea, los que atraen y repelen." Zygmunt Bauman / Amor líquido

A vida urbana é intrínseca e irremediavelmente ambivalente.

Sometimes a place to work, or a place to relax--even if only for an hour--is all you need. That, and good friends. Without those things, the city will break you into a million tiny pieces. But what in the world could be harder to find?

There's little need to invest in the comprehensive instrumentation of the urban fabric with sensors, device controllers or informational displays when people themselves are already equipped with something that can act in all of these roles.

Its first postulate is that the contemporary urban environment is so complex and so vexatious in its demands that no group of ordinary, unaided human beings can hope to understand it, let alone manage it wisely.

When I am sad and weary When I think all hope has gone When I walk along High Holborn I think of you with nothing on.

There is nothing more peaceful than New York City at three A.M. It's the rest period before the madness begins at dawn.

There is a beehive under every pot of honey on the island of Manhattan

I saw someone peeing in Jermym Street the other day. I thought, is this the end of civilization as we know it? Or is it simply someone peeing in Jermyn Street?

Outside, beyond where the light from our window fell, there was a deep inner well. The roof in which these rooms were built dropped steeply away, and facing us across the void were other similar dormers, unlit, their windows open into shadowy stillness. Above the roofline the sky was amorously transformed by the pink glare of the London dusk.

This city is dying of rabies. Is the best I can do to wipe random flecks of foam from its lips?

There's sex and death and human grime in monochrome for one thin dime, and at least all the trains run on time but they don't go anywhere.

splashed amidst a pillow-fight of pigeons

He missed the way Londoners sounded as he killed them – like they were offended that anyone would even dare.

Clearly, then, the city is not a concrete jungle, it is a human zoo.

The city is not a concrete jungle, it is a human zoo.

Clearly, then, the city is not a concrete jungle, it is a human zoo. The

I don't even know how to use a parking meter, let alone a phone box.

Not having to own a car has made me realize what a waste of time the automobile is.

Why, then, is it so crucial to have ethnographies of urban policing? The answer to this question certainly becomes clearer now. It is not simply that ethnography provides a sort of immersion in the world of law enforcement, allowing us to understand what happens when the police are in the field. It is perhaps more importantly that it produces a vision of a world that has been made either invisible or opaque to most of us.

There are those who wake up each morning to conquer the day, and then there are those of us who wake up only because we have to. We live in the shadow of every neighborhood. We own little corner stores, live in run-down apartments that get too little light, and walk the same streets day after day. We spend our afternoons gazing lazily out of windows. Somnambulists, all of us. Someone else said it better: we wake to sleep and sleep to wake.

We would meet outside the same wine bar we had gone to on our first date, and from there we would wander through the city for five or six hours since neither one of us had a private place that we could retreat to. Walking out in the open for so long only helped to draw us closer. There was too much space on the avenues, and the side streets were often too crowded with people and cabs hurrying to cut across town. To counter that we held each other's hands and arms, ribs and waists.

New York is the meeting place of the peoples, the only city where you can hardly find a typical American.

She looks out the window and notices the sections of Cleveland Street gone to rot, the filigreed metal balconies of the shambling terraces like rusted lacework, the grimy tiled pub facades, the windows of the Lebanese restaurants filmed with grease. This is old Sydney, her father's town of grit and mildew. The