Quotes About City

I've spent lots of time in London, I studied in London, I like London. It's just not my home.

This is what people don't see, wrapped up in their cities, with the noise and the smoke, and their tiny boxes for houses. Up there you can breathe. You can't hear the town talking and talking. No eyes on you, 'cept God's. It's just you and the trees and the birds and the river and the sky and freedom . . . Out there, it's good for the soul.

Across Manhattan the sun glowed orange, the endless sea of glittering skyscrapers reflecting back a peach light, the centre of the world, going about its business. A million lives below me, a million heartbreaks big and small, tales of joy and loss and survival, a million little victories every day.

It has become a secret habit, me, the city skyline, the comfort of the dark, the anonymity, and the knowledge that up here nobody knows who I am

I know the subtlest movements of the city because I no longer sleep.

And as she walks, in a city of strangers, her nostrils filled with the scent of street food, her ears filled with an unfamiliar language, she feels something unexpected wash through her. She feels connected, alive.

Outside, life in Manhattan continued, oblivious, fast-moving, ignoring the detritus that piled up in the gutter.

I thought of how in less than twelve months I had survived homelessness and joblessness in one of the toughest cities on earth.

I had spent months wishing I had more free time. Now that I had it, I found the city was not a friendly place without money to burn.

The plants have long since withered and died. I am apparently not very good at looking after things. Now I stand on the roof, staring out at London's winking darkness below. Around me a million people are living, breathing, eating, arguing. A million lives completely divorced from mine. It is a strange sort of peace.

It was a warm summer evening and the rooftop asphalt radiated heat. Below us the sounds of the city spelled a lazy Sunday in slow-moving traffic, windows down, music blaring, youths hanging out on street corners, and the distant chargrilled smells of barbecues on other rooftops.

Down the street she can hear the acoustics of early evening in the city, the clatter of pans in distant kitchens, televisions firing up, a car door slamming, a dog barking at some unseen outrage.

I was living in a city whose rules I didn't entirely understand, with no permanent address, and I had failed in pretty much every job I had ever held.

The city, compelling as it was, felt like a glamorous couture dress I had bought in haste but that didn't quite fit me after all.

felt oddly ashamed at how little I had really explored New York.

For the first time I felt overwhelmed, crushed by the knowledge that I was alone in a city that no longer welcomed me.

I guess this is a prayer to the unsettled arc of mortality, the hoist and shuffle of this uncertain moment, our lives like bulbs flaring and going out as the city's seven million souls--ah, but that's another argument--click out their bedside lamps and curl toward whatever approximation of warmth they have found, while the music plays on in the streets below, the neon humming, the ambulances wailing the sudden shocked song of the living.

shouting to each other like drummers in rock bands calling out rhythms, pasting new skin on the veins of the city.

He imagines what would happen if the whole street called his name, joining with the mother's small voice, the whole street lifting the words and the words spreading through this city, taking flight like a flock of birds at dusk, clouding the sky,... the name, pouring down from the sky... across all our misconnected world, a chorus of name-saying, a brief redemptive span of attention.

I've always liked Atlanta. And not just for the strip clubs, but the shopping and the food.

o kad taip visi nustot? dirb? lygiai tre?i? valand? kasdien ir išvalyt? visus kambarius tai Niujorke nebeb?t? tiek tarakon?.

Miestuose per daug cemento ir bat?, batuk?. Kult?ra yra basose kojose.

Long lines of birds are flying over the city. Freedom in their wings.

I go for a long night walk, in order to get out of the factory day. I walk and i wander through the network of the streets, neon lights and night crowds. This woman on the corner, she was shouting at me: ''Ay, why are you so sad?'' Lady of the night, you haven't see me really sad. Right now i am in my happiest mood. I continue walking. How could she really understand the depths of my sadness.