Quotes About City

I noticed that the houses in Fort Smith were numbered but it was no city at all compared to Little Rock. I thought then and still think that Fort Smith ought to be in Oklahoma instead of Arkansas...

Noel had been born in Folkestone, a city in southeastern England, and he had already spent a lifetime in pubs and around cranky publicans.

That which man builds man destroys, but the city of God is built by God and cannot be destroyed by man. AUGUSTINE

Tonight, I feel small. An entire night in the city seems to be too much for me, too immense for me to get lost in. By now it's past one, the after-hours city is in full swing, and morning is a long way off.

And it is awful here, there is no other way to say it. But I believe that Detroit is America's city. It was the vanguard of our way up, just as it is the vanguard of our way down. And one hopes the vanguard of our way up again. Detroit is Pax Americana...America's way of life was built here.

Children are dying in this city because they're too fucking poor to keep warm. Put that in your fucking notebook. I put it in my fucking notebook.

The city belongs to the black man. The white man was a convenient target until there were no white men left in Detroit. What used to be black and white is now gray. Whites got the suburbs and everything else. The black machine's got the city and the black machine's at war with itself. The spoils go to the one who understands that.

Somehow, the city of promise had become a scrap yard of dreams.

What galleries and museums have to do with a dead man is beyond me. Writing about shit like that in the city we were living in seemed equal to writing about the surf conditions while reporting in the Gaza Strip.

New York - that unnatural city where every one is an exile, none more so than the American

I gave three quiet cheers for Minnesota. In Seattle a dusty inch of anything white and chilly means the city lapses into full-on panic mode, as if each falling flake crashes to earth with its own individual baggie of used hypodermic needles. It's ridiculous.

if there's one thing other than traffic in Seattle, it's coffee. You can't swing a dead squirrel without hitting a Starbucks, or failing that particular evil empire, an indie establishment.

I had to leave the Thunderbird parked entirely too close to a stop sign. But seriously, if the city meant for drivers to keep their cars thirty feet away from the corners, they'd mark the damn corners with paint or something. I'm convinced that it's a conspiracy to write more tickets and bring in more revenue—so if I looked at it that way, then really, I was just doing my part to support Seattle's public servants.

At no point, anywhere in Seattle, is there a clear and obvious route to an interstate. And, if you find yourself magically right beside an interstate on-ramp, you can safely assume that it's leading the wrong direction. You might say to yourself, "Self, if I've found the on-ramp going this direction, surely the on-ramp going the other direction must be right nearby!" But you'd be wrong. This place was designed by crack addicts, I'm convinced of it.

All this, in the midst of a city already plagued by the Ku Klux Klan—a group more sinister and suspicious than most people have any idea, and their public face is troublesome enough without any secret agenda hiding beneath their ridiculous robes. I tell you, they're stranger than the Freemasons and not half as well thought out, but they're radical, blind believers of awful things.

She had become something wrathful and insane, an urban legend waiting to happen.

It was April in Minneapolis and snowing, the flakes coming down in thick swirls enchanting the city

I want to see a bit more of New York, even though it's snowing and cold.

O Danúbio, pensei, era o Danúbio mas não era azul, era amarelo, a cidade toda era amarela, os telhados, o asfalto, os parques, engraçado isso, uma cidade amarela, eu pensava que Budapeste fosse cinzenta, mas Budapeste era amarela.

Custei a aprender que para conhecer uma cidade, melhor que percorrê-la em ônibus de dois andares é se fechar num aposento dentro dela. Não é fácil, e eu sabia que entrar em Budapeste não seria fácil.

Busquei abrigo num quiosque, e me perguntei se algum dia saberia viver longe do mar, em cidade que não terminasse assim num acidente, mas agonizando para todos os lados.

God made the country, and man made the town.

The summer and the country... have no charms for me. I look forward anxiously to the return of bad weather, coal fires, and good society in a crowded city. I have no relish for the country; it is a kind of healthy grave.

People tell me that the countryside must always be stupid and backward, and I get angry, as if it were said that only townspeople had immortal souls, and it was only in the city that the flame of divinity breathed into the first men had any unobscured glow.