Quotes About City

Ilumínate más, ciudad maldita. Ilumina tus puertas y ventanas Ilumínate más, luz necesita el partido sin luz de las sotanas.

My mom was scared of the old Times Square so I was never allowed to go. Now I'm scared of the new Times Square, so I still never go.

My favorite food city is wherever I happen to be eating. You know what they say, love the one you're with!

Organized gangs were now deep into the sex trafficking business, snatching girls off city streets, not from other countries.

I think you ought to go to New York or Chicago or San Francisco or any city with character and vitality. You should go to work. This place is no good for you, Randy. The air is like soup and the people are like noodles. You're vegetating. I don't want a vegetable. I want a man.' " - Lib McGovern

There isn't a person in this city more dangerous than a wolf whose mate is in danger.

Only you could go to Spokane and get bitten by the one vampire in the whole city Adam to Mercy

I knew a little bit about Prague. The first thing that came to mind was that Prague citizens had a habit of throwing powerful officials out of windows—the Second Defenestration of Prague began the Thirty Years War in 1618. There wasn't another capital city with a First Defenestration that I knew of, let alone a second one. Prague was full of my kind of people.

Cain's hairy titties," muttered Ben, joining me in my observation of the rural setting. "What hermit was so misguided in life that he was hanging around this peopleless landscape at the bell end of the night and happened to see a freaking goblin disappear into a hay barn? And for that matter, goblins are city denizens like me. What the shagging hell is it doing out here?

January. It was all things. And it was one thing, like a solid door. Its cold sealed the city in a gray capsule. January was moments, and January was a year. January rained the moments down, and froze them in her memory: [...]Every human action seemed to yield a magic. January was a two-faced month, jangling like jester's bells, crackling like snow crust, pure as any beginning, grim as an old man, mysteriously familiar yet unknown, like a word one can almost but not quite define.

He liked the fact that Venice had no cars. It made the city human. The streets were like veins, he thought, and the people were the blood, circulating everywhere.

Auntie says that in the city, people gather and pay money to see beautiful women and handsome men put on a show. The people in the show are called movie stars.

I go through to lie on my bed and leave the light offI watch the city lightes move accross the ceiling, splintering up the darkness. It's not ever really dark in our room. Even with the lights off, the cars and neons and street lights leave a glow all the time.

I'm used to the traffic and the way it washes through my mind, swirling with changing rhythms. It is a moving, liquid music, smooth and soothing; a song of haunting sounds and hooting woven from the speed and rushings of the city. The traffic is a song which plays my feelings as though they were a string instrument of distant drum. It erases all silences within me.

Nice is a city of ghosts and specters, but I hope not to become one of them right away.

I was happy when I walked the streets of Paris by myself.

J'ai longtemps été persuadé que l'on ne pouvait faire de vraies rencontres que dans la rue.

In big cities, in the summertime, people of long since lost track of each other or who don't even know each other meet one evening on the terrace, and lose each other again. And none of it really matters.

He was haunted by what he called "fixed points." In this uninterrupted stream of women, men, children, and dogs that pass by and end up lost from sight among the streets, it would be nice to hold on to a face once in a while.

Par moments, le lien s'amenuise et risque de se rompre, d'autres soirs la ville d'hier m'apparaît en reflets furtifs derrière celle d'aujourd'hui.

Pero, ¿qué importa la distancia si sólo fuera un sueño? ¿Acaso un sueño no podría cruzar toda la ciudad andando?

In 1689, Protestant forces loyal to William of Orange, the new king, had managed to hold the city against a siege by a Catholic army loyal to James II.

In the city, she mused, they might cross paths with "a poor man, a blind person, a beggar." She treated the whole experience as if it were an urban safari, rife with danger, but also with wonder and beauty. When little Arthur was ready to go off to his new school in the big city, she gave him a compass, in case he got lost.

Esa parte de mí que todavía no se había marchado de Tarbean quiso echarle mano a su bolsillo.