Quotes About Apartment

We took the stairs to the second floor and ran into Dillan Ruddick, the building super. He had a wet vac going, sucking up water from the soggy hall carpet. 'Thanks for saving my apartment,' I said to him. 'No problemo,' Dillan said. 'I've got it down to a science. The alarm goes off and I run straight to your apartment and grab the fire extinguishers.

Welcome to Château du Roi," Carter said. Of course the house had a name, Kate thought, and one about as subtle as the three cars out front. Castle of the King. She decided to name her apartment something classy when she got back to L.A. Her place overlooked a gas station, so maybe Château du Chevronview.

minutes I was back at my condo.

We're taking Forest to the police station, and then I'm taking the minions home with me. I'll stash them in my apartment until someone springs Forest. They haven't put the carpet down yet, and Briggs is there to babysit.

If the banks become unreliable lenders, apartment prices will drop dramatically.

As soon as I have the script in my hand, I'll be up in my apartment room pacing up and down learning it because it's just such a lovely thing to do.

Someone skipped on the rent and they left behind a huge upright piano, which got moved into our apartment so the other apartment could get rented out. I took to it and started playing.

My idea of working out is going upstairs in my apartment.

I've never lived in New York. I've never done a play off or on Broadway, so I think that's in my future. Have that experience - get a little apartment in the city and grow a beard and walk around with earbuds in my ears, and a stocking cap and a big giant scarf.

I live in New York, but I'm gone 310, 320 days a year. My apartment is storage.

I don't really have a domestic inclination. Even my apartment has a semblance of a storage facility. It's just stacks, there are no bookshelves, just books and piles of stamp collections and weird little sewing and knitting projects.

I'm a really big Juice Press fan. There is a store right around the corner from my apartment in New York.

I wanted stores that would feel like a comfortable room in my apartment, cozy and colorful and different.

In the 1990s, Trump Tower was one of only two buildings in New York City to allow anonymous purchases of apartment units, an opportunity that the Russian mob quickly exploited.

Their love is eternal because time seems to have fled, embarrassed to be sharing such a small apartment with so much dumb affection.

I was the guy who didn't get a cool little apartment. I took one for the team. I liked having the place we could make noise in, the place that could be the center of the music. I sat down and calculated it one day, and over the years, I've had something like 38 roommates.

I was born in 1943 and raised in the Bronx, in a high rise apartment complex known as Parkchester, the only child of Max, an accountant who worked in the garment district in Manhattan, and Rose, an elementary school teacher.

I was back at the flat so quick that I nearly met myself coming out.

To have to come and live in New York! To have to leave my little cottage and take a stuffy, smelly, over-heated hole of an apartment in this Heaven-forsaken, festering Gehenna. To have to mix night after night with a mob who think that life is a sort of St. Vitus's dance, and imagine that they're having a good time because they're making enough noise for six and drinking too much for ten.

I am listening, I tell you. Get to the point. And talk quick, darn it. Remember it's costing forty-five bucks every three minutes.' For Mrs Moon was speaking from her apartment on Park Avenue, New York. And though it was the woman who would pay, waste even of other people's money was agony to Mr Frisby. He possessed twenty million dollars himself, and loved every cent of them.

The brooch was a cheap bauble, but one with powerful sentimental value. Not that Irene was the sentimental type, aside from the smother-love she lavished on her toy poodle, but she'd known Colette her whole life. They'd grown up in the same grimy apartment house in Bay Ridge and had at one time

knew how to walk in a great city and I did not. Outlander, visitor, I could smell the sea as I entered the lobby of Savannah's apartment, the old familiar scent of the Eastern seaboard roaring up the Avenues. The antique elevator, the size and shape of a coffin, wheezed and groaned its way to the sixth floor. I set my luggage on the marble floor and tried twelve keys before I discovered the four

We lived in Boston, in an apartment where even the rats had to walk stoop-shouldered.

I'd been in New York for nearly eighteen months, now - though I still felt a transient, passing through, and that this apartment, this address, my job and my salary were very temporary aspects of my autobiography and whatever significance this sojourn would have in any retrospective view was impossible to discern.