Quotes About New Orleans

The minute you land in New Orleans, something wet and dark leaps on you and starts humping you like a swamp dog in heat, and the only way to get that aspect of New Orleans off you is to eat it off.

THE MINUTE YOU LAND IN NEW ORLEANS, something wet and dark leaps on you and starts humping you like a swamp dog in heat, and the only way to get the aspect of New Orleans off you is to eat it off.

Seattle rain smells different from New Orleans rain... New Orleans rain smells of sulfur and hibiscus, trumpet metal, thunder and sweat. Seattle rain, the widespread rain of the Great Northwest, smells of green ice and sumi ink, of geology and silence and minnow breath.

One of his students was an intense young man who was interested in writing fiction. My father lent him some books and talked to him for hours about the art of the novel. The boy went on to write a novel himself, a colorful fantasy about New Orleans, but no one wanted to publish it. He later killed himself. His name was John Kennedy Toole

This book is a song for my fathers—the white one who sired, raised, and coached me, and the black ones who inspired and encouraged me, and enriched my life beyond measure. It also recounts the life and times of a middle-class white boy growing up in New Orleans in the 1950s and '60s. New Orleans is more than a backdrop to this drama; it is perhaps the central player, for this story could not have taken place in any other city in the world. The

Henry Castellanos wrote in New Orleans as It Was that; 'No spirits wander through its wide halls...but in lieu thereof there rests a curse...that follows everyone who has ever attempted to make it a permanent habitation...every venture has proved a ruinous failure.' It is indeed true that from the 183os until present, many of the institutions and tenants that tried to occupy the "Haunted House" have experienced financial insolvency or bad luck.

New Orleans is a very dull town. It's against the law to go to the colored section. The bars are insufferably dreary.

The air was so sweet in New Orleans it seemed to come in soft bandannas; and you could smell the river and really smell the people, and the mud and the molasses, and every kind of tropical exhalation with your nose suddenly removed from the dry ices of a Northern winter.

The air was so sweet in New Orleans it seemed to come in soft bandannas; and you could smell the river and really smell the people, and mud, and molasses, and every kind of tropical exhalation with your nose suddenly removed from the dry ices of a Northern winter. We bounced in our seats.

It was sad to see his tall figure receding in the dark as we drove away, just like the other figures in New York and New Orleans: they stand uncertainly underneath immense skies, and everything about them is drowned. Where go? what do? what for?—sleep. But this foolish gang was bending onward.

The role of these New Orleans Creoles in the development of jazz remains one of the least understood and most commonly mis-represented issues in the history of this music.

Wherever you've got a migrant culture, the food evolves and in New Orleans it's that French and Spanish influence. So you get gumbo, which came out of French bouillabaisse, jambalaya - a version of paella - and the boudin sausage, which is like the French boudin.

When my dad went to college to get his master's from Loyola, he was playing Debussy and Chopin and Beethoven. But he played all that New Orleans stuff, too. I would go with my dad to gigs, pick up the piano and the speakers, and I would be like his roadie.

Essence is something I always enjoy, because I love New Orleans. Since they brought it back to New Orleans, it's a special place to me. We been doing it since the beginning. We did it when it was in Houston, but there's nothing like New Orleans.

In my hometown of New Orleans, grief is a public spectacle that, somewhat paradoxically, necessitates celebration. The dead are not mourned so much as they are posthumously venerated with music and dance.

New Orleans taught me that mourning takes many different forms. Where I'm from, mourning is spirited. It is loud.

I really got back to my New Orleans roots - my grandfather played with Fats Domino. We had to leave after Katrina, but I feel like, spiritually, I'm back there.

can't say I mourned my failure overmuch, as it meant I'd get a free trip to New Orleans out of it, and that would rock be most excellent. I DROVE BACK to the office late in the day to find Tristan collapsed on the couch from exhaustion.

If there was no New Orleans, America would just be a bunch of free people dying of boredom. -Judy Deck in an e-mail sent to Chris Rose

A New Orleans credo: When life gives you lemons--make daiquiris.

Everybody here has a story. New Orleans was always a place where people talked too much even if they had nothing to say. Now everyone's got something to say.

He's got that New Orleans thing crawling all over him, that good stuff, that We Are the Champions, to hell with the rest and I'll just start over kind of attitude.

This book is dedicated to Thomas Coleman, a retired longshoreman, who died in his attic at 2214 St. Roch Avenue in New Orleans' 8th Ward on or about August 29, 2005. He had a can of juice and a bedspread at his side when the waters rose. There were more than a thousand like him.

Then I guess we cannot miss the famous festival in New Orleans, he found himself saying, just to take the shadows from her eyes. She was silent a moment, her fingers twisting in the blanket. Do you mean it, Gregori? We can go? You know how much I love crowds of humans, he said, straight-faced. She laughed at him. They don't bite. I do, he said, the words low and soft, his silver gaze at once possessive.