Quotes About City

There's a certain attitude that you'll experience in San Francisco. You could call it hubris.

I was raised in New York, so that's the greatest city in the world to me, but if you take that out of the equation, then London is my favourite city, and I'm a huge fan of Dublin as well.

At City I went back there on the basis of playing for manager Mark Hughes.

Being the mayor of the third largest city in the country, that's humbling, but it also gives me incredible hope.

The people in New York - their humor is on a level that goes, uh, very deep, you know?

The city seems to be a labyrinth that can be ordered. The world is an infinite series of curvatures or inflections, and the entire world is enclosed in the soul from one point of view.

In New York it's not three or four A.M. that's the quiet time—there are too many bar stragglers, calling out to each other as they collapse into taxis, yelping into their cell phones as they frantically smoke that one last cigarette before bed. Five A.M., that's the best time, when the clicking of your heels on the sidewalk sounds illicit. All the people have been put away in their boxes, and you have the whole place to yourself.

I was raised in the city by a one-eyed mother...

These are not people who want to slum it. These are people whose primary purpose is to live in the city but feel like they're in the suburbs.

Un oraÅŸ atât de sufocant ÅŸi de mic, încât zilnic te împiedicai de oameni pe care îi urai.

We gathered our things and began taking leave of camp followers who had trickled out from the city. Our animals and equipment would be their reward for faith and friendship. I spent a sad, gentle hour with a woman to whom I meant more than I suspected. We shed no tears and told one another no lies. I left her with memories and most of my pathetic fortune. She left me with a lump in my throat and a sense of loss not wholly fathomable.

Potem nadciÄ…gn??a nadciÄ…gn??a m?awka, która szczelnie zasun??a zasÅ'ony Å›wiata. BrÄ…zowe i szare postacie garbiÅ'y siÄ™ zniechÄ™cone wzdÅ'u? brudnej, bÅ'otnistej ulicy. DzieÅ" byÅ' jak wyrwany w peÅ'ni dorosÅ'y z macicy rozpaczy.

There's something hypocritical about a city that keeps half of its population underground half of the time; you can start believing that there's much more space than there really is -- to live, to work.

The key to the city of Florence was about two feet long, and painted a garish gold. Hamilton was fascinated by it. Wow! How big is the lock? Jonah laughed. There is no lock, cuz. It's an honorary gig. Back in my crib in LA, I've got a whole shed full of keys from different cities. Want to know the kicker? I can't get at them. The gardener lost the key to the shed.

The sounds provide as much variety as the sights—sirens, honking horns, squealing brakes, blaring stereos, leaf blowers, jackhammers, excited shouts. It's like a guy who's been fed bread and water his whole life suddenly stumbling into a humongous feast with every kind of food and drink imaginable.

Now-a-days lower Broadway is blocked with traffic at this hour and everyone walks; even the decrepit John Jacob Astor can be seen crawling along the street like some ancient snail, his viscous track the allure of money. Instead

They can print statistics and count the populations in hundreds of thousands, but to each man a city consists of no more than a few streets, a few houses, a few people. Remove those few and a city exists no longer except as a pain in the memory, like a pain of an amputated leg no longer there.

Insecurity twists meanings and poisons trust. In a closely beleaguered city every sentry is a potential traitor.

It was a city to visit, not a city to live in, but it was the city where Wormold had first fallen in love and he was held to it as though to the scene of a disaster. Time gives poetry to a battlefield.

to each man a city consists of no more than a few streets, a few houses, a few people. Remove those few and a city exists no longer except as a pain in the memory...

The soap-box orators talked in the bitter cold at Marble Arch with their mackintoshes turned up around their Adam's apples, and all down the road the cad cars waited for the right easy girls, and the cheap prostitutes sat hopelessly in the shadows, and the blackmailers kept an eye open on the grass where the deeds of darkness were quietly and unsatisfactorily accomplished.

They can print statistics and count the populations in hundreds of thousands, but to each man a city consists of no more than a few streets, a few houses, a few people. Remove those few and a city exists no longer except as a pain in the memory, like the pain of an amputated leg no longer there.

An east wind blew from the City: it had the stone-cold of big business blocks and banks.

Drop that gun, you fool. This is London.