Quotes About Santa Fe

In any other American city this size, the road would have been paved. But in Santa Fe, raw earth is as chic as raw fish. The wealthier locals like it especially in the winter, when they can hop into their four-wheel-drive vehicles and feel like cowboys as they go whizzing down the mudslides into town.

To give you an idea of the sort of place that Santa Fe is, I could bang on about the desert and the altitude and the light and the silver and turquoise jewelry, but the best thing is just to mention a traffic sign on the freeway from Albuquerque. It says, in large letters, GUSTY WINDS, and in smaller letters MAY EXIST.

Then he got out, whistling tunelessly under his breath and pulling a sheaf of mail and a small sack of groceries from the passenger seat as he did so. A long, narrow pain d'epi stuck up from the sack like a flagpole; while he considered himself a gourmet chef, the art of bread baking was a skill that had always eluded him. Besides, there was a place in Santa Fe that made the best French bread he'd tasted this side of the Rive Gauche.

My connection to Santa Fe is very closely, and continuously a connection with Reid. I believe in him and his philosophy of photographic education.

The drive to Santa Fe on I-25 is midly zen. There are public road signs that say "Gusty Winds May Exist". This seems more like lazy philosophy than travel advice.

Robert Oppenheimer moved to Santa Fe with a small team of aides on March 15, 1943, brisk early spring. Scientists and their families arrived by automobile and train during the next four weeks. Not much was ready on the mesa, which they began to call the Hill.

I wrote my senior essay on the Santa Fe Writer's Colony and my dissertation on sacred landscapes - the Grand Canyon, the Dakota Badlands. As a setting, I love the West. I just love that western landscape.

I was fairly young when we moved to Santa Fe, but it wasn't long after that I started to figure out who I was, and that entire process took place in this city.

Sangre de Cristo foothills rising up to Santa Fe Baldy, a great gray-topped mound of a mountain, its summit often graced by snow. As described in the interview, this peak helped inspire his novella "24 Views of Mt. Fuji, by Hokusai.

I live a lonely photographic life here in Santa Fe. I do see Eliot Porter occasionally, and Ansel storms through every so often, otherwise I plug along in my old fashioned way.

I joined the board of the Santa Fe Institute.

I live in Santa Fe, New Mexico. And I travel a tremendous amount. I'm in New York and California a lot, but then also I like faraway places a lot.

Death is a sophisticated afternoon in Santa Fe, with nobody saying what they are thinking.

We arrived at Council Bluffs at dawn; I looked out. All winter I'd been reading of the great wagon parties that held council there before hitting the Oregon and Santa Fe trails; and of course now it was only cute suburban cottages of one damn kind and another

Going to Santa Fe is like going to Greece. It's not that special compared to other areas. The pinon pines are no different than pinon pines elsewhere. But there has been culture there longer than in most places, and you feel it.

The drive to Santa Fe on I-25 is midly zen. There are public road signs that say Gusty Winds May Exist. This seems more like lazy philosophy than travel advice.

The oldest American capital is Santa Fe, founded in 1609, over 150 years before the United States was even born and almost 250 before the United States eventually conquered what's now the Southwest from Mexico.

Santa Fe is a great place which people don't get there often, but it's like a unique place.

I think growing up in Santa Fe or Northern New Mexico in general instills a sense of humor in people, a sort of easygoing sense of not taking yourself too seriously, while still being very proud of where you come from, and that's something we all share.

New Mexico was the greatest experience from the outside world that I have ever had. It certainly changed me forever. . . . The moment I saw the brilliant, proud morning shine high up over the deserts of Santa Fe, something stood still in my soul, and I started to attend.