Quotes About New Orleans

I think New Orleans is such a beautiful city. It looks like a fairytale when you walk through the French Quarter or the Garden District. There is such a lush sense of color, style, architecture - and the people themselves.

When you set a play in the French Quarter in New Orleans, it's hard not to acknowledge the whole African-American, French, white mixing of races. That's what the French Quarter is: it's a Creole community.

What I love about jazz is that it's full of legends, full of myths. It's an oral history because it started in New Orleans and Kansas City, under the radar.

My father's record collection was full of New Orleans music of all kinds. I used to listen to the radio in New York, and all there was on it at the time was Madonna and Michael Jackson, so it sort of passed me by.

In New Orleans, music is part of the culture. You're raised with it, from the cradle to the grave, and all in-between.

New Orleans will always be in my heart. New Orleans raised me - it's in my blood.

New Orleans. Born and raised. I lived there until I was 19.

With Hurricane Katrina and all that kind of stuff happening, you needed somebody to rally for your city, to tell that story. Since Hurricane Katrina, we didn't really have nobody that said, 'I'm gonna tell New Orleans' story, and I'm gonna stick to New Orleans.'

The answer to New Orleans's levee woes is painfully obvious: money and willpower.

I come from a long line of strong and confident women out of New Orleans. My grandmother and great-grandmother were women who ran their homes and were leaders in their communities. I was never taught that there was anything that I couldn't do, and I believed that.

When I was growing up, I did not exercise at all. I was raised in the French Quarter in New Orleans. If I saw someone running, I would call the police because I thought they stole something on Royal Street.

Every time I close my eyes blowing that trumpet of mine, I look right into the heart of good old New Orleans. It has given me something to live for.

And we live in a French Quarter a lot of the time, in New Orleans. And the camaraderie of everybody there. Everybody takes care of each other.

In the spring of 1988, I returned to New Orleans, and as soon as I smelled the air, I knew I was home. It was rich, almost sweet, like the scent of jasmine and roses around our old courtyard. I walked the streets, savoring that long lost perfume.

But during all these years I had a vague but persistent desire to return to New Orleans. I never forgot New Orleans. And when we were in tropical places and places of those flowers and trees that grow in Louisiana, I would think of it acutely and I would feel for my home the only glimmer of desire I felt for anything outside my endless pursuit of art.

I was the vampire Lestat again. I was back in action. New Orleans was once again my hunting ground.

In a low voice, I told her many things in English, only using French when for some reason I couldn't find the word I wanted, rambling on about the France of my time, and the crude little colony of New Orleans where I had existed after, and how wondrous this age was, and how I'd become a rock star for a brief time, because I thought that as a symbol of evil I'd do some good.

New Orleans, city of roaches, city of decay, city of our family, and of happy, happy people.

He thought of the Englishman at the bar in the lobby again. That's what had brought it all back — the Englishman remarking to the bartender that he'd just come from New Orleans, and that certainly was a haunted city.

The moon that rose over New Orleans then still rises. As

So far away from that gloomy New Orleans corner, from the sad old city festering with secrets in its perpetual Caribbean heat

Murders, father, death after death. The woman who died two nights ago in Jackson Square, I killed her, and thousands of others before her, one and two a night, father, for seventy years. I have walked the streets of New Orleans like the Grim Reaper and fed on human life for my own existence. I am not mortal, father, but immortal and damned, like angels put in hell by God. I am a vampire.

The Dead Guy, Louis, or whoever he was, had been made Dead down in New Orleans and the book was full of stuff about banana leaves and iron railings and Spanish moss.

We were living in Louisiana then. We'd received a land grant and settled two indigo plantations on the Mississippi very near New Orleans.…