Quotes About Paris

I am going to enjoy life in Paris I know. It is so human and there is something noble in the city... It is a real city, old and fine and life plays in it for everybody to see.

I promise myself, once back in Paris, to write every day at least a page about anything, if only to keep my spirit on alert.

The modern Hungarian artists, followers of that zigzag nonsense done by Matisse and Picasso and their ilk in Paris.

It makes for a galvanizing moment, with Baldwin moved to leave Paris by the cruelty visited on a child.

Despite my fears and my aching loneliness, I believed without a doubt in a better world, which was adulthood or New York or Paris or love.

Imagine that the telegraph is an immense long dog — so long that its head is at Vienna and its tail is at Paris. Well, tread on its tail, which is at Paris, and it will bark at Vienna.

Those last nights in Paris, walking home with her father at midnight, the huge book clasped against her chest, Marie-Laure thinks she can sense a shiver beneath the air, in the pauses between the chirring of the insects, like the spider cracks of ice when too much weight is set upon it. As if all this time the city has been no more than a scale model built by her father and the shadow of a great hand has fallen over it.

Stick-thin, alabaster-pale Etienne LeBlanc runs down the rue de Dinan with Madame Ruelle, the baker's wife, on his heels: the least-robust rescue ever assembled.

And yet by early autumn, once or twice a week, at certain moments of the day, sitting out in the Jardin des Plantes beneath the massive hedges or reading beside her father's workbench, Marie-Laure looks up from her book and believes she can smell gasoline under the wind. As if a great river of machinery is steaming slowly, irrevocably, toward her.

and evening is settling over the hundred thousand rooftops and chimneys of Paris, and all the walls around her are dissolving, the ceilings too, the whole city is disintegrating into smoke, and at last sleep falls over her like a shadow.

In a corner of the city, inside a tall, narrow house at Number 4 rue Vauborel, on the sixth and highest floor, a sightless sixteen-year-old named Marie-Laure LeBlanc kneels over a low table covered entirely with a model.

Siga a lógica. Todo efeito tem sua causa, e todo problema tem sua solução. Toda fechadura tem sua chave. Você pode voltar para Paris ou permancer aqui ou seguir em frente.

It was an Édith Piaf album, Chansons Parisiennes.

I inherited my 1960s copy of 'French Provincial Cooking' by Elizabeth David from my mother Gabrielle, who in turn inherited it from her mother Frances. It was my bible when I first moved to Paris aged 26.

In politics, my role model would be a very weird one - our second emperor, Pedro the Second. He was a person with no vanity. He cared a lot about the public interest. He cared a lot about Brazil evolving as an important country. And he didn't ask much for himself. He was ousted from power, and he lived with the help of friends in Paris.

My roots are in Paris, and I will not pull them up.

When you wake up, and you see that America has pulled out of the climate deal in Paris, that sends huge messages about putting coal before the planet.

Paris, as always, is swarming with Americans, and these days, it's also swarming with hamburgers. Oddly, though, it's not typically the Americans who are pursuing the perfect burger on the perfect bun with the obligatory side of perfect coleslaw; the Americans are pursuing the perfect blanquette de veau.

As a kid, I wanted to be part of the Lost Generation who came to France.

Every woman in America has a French dream in her head, especially a Parisian one.

And Paris, when you avoid the more conspicuous resorts, and when you are unprovided with congenial companionship can prove nearly as overwhelming as is, say, Birmingham on a Sunday.

Are you sure the child was left at a school in Paris? Are you sure it was Paris?" "My dear fellow," broke forth Carrisford, with restless bitterness, "I am sure of nothing.

Paris is an insomniac's heaven. There is always something to photograph, something hidden in the shadows. One can see so much more in the darkness than in the light of day.

Don't come to Paris if you're planning a solitary hike through a sexual desert.