Quotes About London

London is full of women who trust their husbands. One can always recognise them. They look so thoroughly unhappy.

Do you smoke? Jack.  Well, yes, I must admit I smoke. Lady Bracknell.  I am glad to hear it.  A man should always have an occupation of some kind.  There are far too many idle men in London as it is. 

The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ.

I felt that this grey, monstrous London of ours, with its myriads of people, its sordid sinners and its splendid sins

The St. James's

Oh, I love London Society! I think it has immensely improved. It is entirely composed now of beautiful idiots and brilliant lunatics. Just what Society should be.

Thirty-five is a very attractive age.  London society is full of women of the very highest birth who have, of their own free choice, remained thirty-five for years.  Lady Dumbleton is an instance in point.  To my own knowledge she has been thirty-five ever since she arrived at the age of forty, which was many years ago now. 

London late at night -- or even in the daytime, for that matter -- is no place for a man in scarlet tights.

Oh, Jeeves,' I said; 'about that check suit.' Yes, sir?' Is it really a frost?' A trifle too bizarre, sir, in my opinion.' But lots of fellows have asked me who my tailor is.' Doubtless in order to avoid him, sir.' He's supposed to be one of the best men in London.' I am saying nothing against his moral character, sir.

If there were more men like you, Mr. Wooster, London would be a better place. This was dead opposite to my Aunt Agatha's philosophy of life, she always having rather given me to understand that it is the presence in it of chappies like me that makes London more or less of a plague spot; but I let it go.

That is the peculiarity of London. There is a sort of cold unfriendliness about it. A city like New York makes the new arrival feel at home in half an hour; but London is a specialist in what Psmith called in his letter the Distant Stare. You have to buy London's good will.

In your walks about London you will sometimes see bent, haggard figures that look as if they had recently been caught in some powerful machinery. They are those fellows who got mixed up with Catsmeat when he was meaning well.

The trouble with you, Spode, is that just because you have succeeded in inducing a handful of half-wits to disfigure the London scene by going about in black shorts, you think you're someone. You hear them shouting Heil, Spode! and you imagine it is the Voice of the People. That is where you make your bloomer. What the Voice of the People is saying is: Look at that frightful ass Spode swanking about in footer bags! Did you ever in your puff see such a perfect perisher?

London was too big to be angry with. It took no notice of him. It did not care whether he was glad to be there or sorry, and there was no means of making it care. That is the peculiarity of London. There is a sort of cold unfriendliness about it. A city like New York makes the new arrival feel at home in half an hour; but London is a specialist in what Psmith in his letter had called the Distant Stare. You have to buy London's good-will.

Your aunt is the dearest woman in the world, and nobody could be fonder of her than I am, but I sometimes find her presence … what is the word I want … restrictive. She holds, as you know, peculiar views on the subject of my running around loose in London, as she puts it, and this prevents me fulfilling myself.

A ripe suggestion, I said. Where are you meeting her? At the Ritz? Near the Ritz. He was geographically accurate. About fifty yards east of the Ritz there is one of those blighted tea-and-bun shops you see dotted about all over London and into this, if you'll believe me, young Bingo dived like a homing rabbit; and before I had time to say a word we were wedged in at a table, on the brink of a silent pool of coffee left there by an early luncher.

But lots of fellows have asked me who my tailor is." "Doubtless in order to avoid him, sir." "He's supposed to be one of the best men in London." "I am saying nothing against his moral character, sir.

There are all sorts of restaurants in London—from the restaurant which makes you fancy you are in Paris to the restaurant which makes you wish you were.

Once, soon after his arrival in London, he had allowed a dangerous fanatic to persuade him that the secret of health was to go without breakfast.

We are going to do a play, and we want another man. The man who was going to play one of the parts has had to go back to London. Poor devil! Fancy having to leave a place like this and go back to that dingy, overrated town.

What on earth did he do after that? London late at night—or even in the daytime, for that matter—is no place for a man in scarlet tights.

London, the crouching monster, like every other monster has to breathe, and breathe it does in its own obscure, malignant way. Its vital oxygen is composed of suburban working men and women of all kinds, who every morning are sucked up through an infinitely complicated respiratory apparatus of trains and termini into the mighty congested lungs, held there for a number of hours, and then, in the evening, exhaled violently through the same channels.

Trust me. I've seen it in London and I've seen it with shipwreck. Death by scurvy is worse. It would be better if the Thing took us all tonight. And with that we went below to the flame-flickering Darkness of the lower deck and to a cold almost the equal of the Dante-esque Ninth Circle Arctic Night without.

here I cannot but take notice that the strange temper of the people of London at that time contributed extremely to their own destruction.