Quotes About City

Philadelphia was then the largest city in North America, with nearly 51,000 inhabitants

Historians now estimate that as many as 20,000 people abandoned the city during the fever.

I've been in California for about 15 years now. You're always in your car and insulated. I miss New York so much.

A family sitting in the TV light, staring at a flat box containing something more interesting than their entire darkened house. Than their entire neighborhood, entire city. Surrounded by the world, but focused on a box.

Until the Eighties, Oslo was a rather boring town, but it's changed a lot, and is now much more cosmopolitan. If I go downtown, I visit the harbour to see the tall ships and the ferries, and to admire the modern architecture such as the Opera House or the new Astrup Fearnley Museum on the water's edge.

Our souls know harmony and proportion before we are born, so although I had never seen anything like it, my soul resonated at once to the beauty of the city. Immediately

Wow, if Portlanders could do that to a biker, they could turn anyone into a hipster.

I have seen hell, it is a great city under siege.

Miss Stephens, observing the chaos that was normal for central London at that hour of the day, observed, 'This is very disorganised. Cannot it be better arranged

Rose spoke up softly beside me. 'It's how you handle the unfairness of life -that's what matters, I think.'...In this city of imprisonment, I had seen faith and optimism, strength and fortitude in the face of adversity.

it was the beginning of November, and New York City was toying with the idea of winter.

Julia felt a deep gratitude to Manhattan, both for demanding all of her attention and for offering no reminders of her old life.

The snow fell softly on the street. It muffled sound. It sent people scurrying homeward, so that the street was soon deserted, empty, quiet. And it could have been any street in the city, for the snow laid a delicate film over the sidewalk, over the brick of the tired, old buildings; gently obscuring the grime and the garbage and the ugliness.

And then she thought about the other streets. It wasn't just this street that she was afraid of or that was bad. It was any street where people were packed together like sardines in a can.

Sentirai il tuono e mi rammenterai, penserai: desiderava la bufera... Sarà una striscia di cielo accesa di rosso, e il cuore come allora in fiamme. E ciò accadrà nel giorno moscovita in cui abbandonerò per sempre la città, muoverò verso il bramato riparo, lasciando in mezzo a voi ancora la mia ombra.

That is why we love this city – Dark and stern, and full of water, And we love our separations, And brief moments when we meet.

In those years only the dead smiled, Glad to be at rest: And Leningrad city swayed like A needless appendix to its prisons.

The angel of God, having secretly Betrothed us one winter day, Watches over our carefree lives With fixed, darkening eyes Because of this we love the sky, Keen air, the fresh wind And the blackening branches Behind the iron fence. Because of this we love the stern Dark city with its many waterways. And we love our partings, And our brief meetings.

And just how many city skylines Could have evoked my tears, But I know just one city in the world, And I can find it, blindfolded, in a dream.

Ancient city is as if dead, Strange's my coming here. Vladimir has raised a black cross Over the river. Noisy elm trees, noisy lindens In the gardens dark, Raised to God, the needle-bearing Stars' bright diamond sparks. Sacrificial and glorious Way, I am ending here, With me is but you, my equal, And my love so dear.

Not thus, from cursed lightness having disembarked, I look with worry on the chambers dark? Already used to ringing high and raw, Already judged not by the earthly law, I, like a criminal, am being drawn along To place of shame and execution long. I see the glorious city, and the voice most dear, As though there is no secret grave to fear, Where day and night, in heat and in cold bent, I must await the Final Judgment...

Divine angel, who betrothed us Secretly on winter morn, From our sadness-free existence Does not take his darkened eyes. For this reason we love sky, And fresh wind, and air so thin, And the dark tree branches Behind fence of iron. For this reason we love the strict, Many-watered, and dark city, And we love the parting, And brief meetings' hour.

Lviv, in present-day western Ukraine, became the only city in the world besides Rome to host three Christian archbishoprics – Catholic, Orthodox and Armenian.

Beautiful in the frost and mist-covered hills above the Dnieper, the life of the City hummed and steamed like a many-layered honeycomb. All day long smoke spiralled in ribbons up to the sky from innumerable chimney-pots. A haze floated over the streets, the packed snow creaked underfoot, houses towered to five, six and even seven storeys. By day their windows were black, while at night they shone in rows against the deep, dark blue sky . . .