Quotes About Paris

Clearly I am pleased to be of interest to a club like Juve, but I repeat I am very happy in Paris.

I always imagined a writer was someone who lived in an attic in Paris, but my mum instilled in me a belief that I could do anything - so I ended up writing my first novel while working nights as a news reporter.

All cities are impressive in their way, because they represent the aspiration of men to lead a common life; those people who wish to live agreeable lives, and in constant intercourse with one another, will build a city as beautiful as Paris.

In Nicaragua, liberty, equality and the rule of law were the stuff of dreams. But in Paris I discovered the value of those words.

I once said to someone that one doesn't come to New York for beauty. I said that's what Paris, or Iceland is for. [...] I didn't know what the hell I was talking about. [...] The thing is, beauty comes in unbeautfiul ways here.

I wanted to do 'Matrix' because when I saw the first one, I was in Paris, and I came out from the movie and said, 'Wow - I've never seen something like that; it's so incredible.'

They are just really stupid people in Hollywood. You write them a script, and they say they love it, they absolutely love it. Then they say, 'But doesn't it need a small dog, and an Eskimo, and shouldn't it be set in New Guinea?' And you say, 'But it is a sophisticated romantic comedy set in Paris.'

I dreamt of being a writer once I started to read. I started to write 'Bonjour Tristesse' in bistros around the Sorbonne. I finished it, I sent it to editors. It was accepted.

My friends in Paris are writers, or something like that, whereas my friends in New York are doing cool stuff in finance and living very different lives. In writing, it's pretty solitary, so it doesn't really matter who's around.

Now you are walking in Paris all alone in the crowd As herds of bellowing buses drive by Love's anguish tightens your throat As if you were never to be loved again If you lived in the old days you would enter a monastery You are ashamed when you discover yourself reciting a prayer You make fun of yourself and like the fire of Hell your laughter crackles The sparks of your laugh gild the depths of your life It's a painting hanging in a dark museum And sometimes you go and look at it close up

Desiderava al tempo stesso morire e vivere a Parigi.

What's improper about it?" retorted the clerk. "Everybody does it in Paris!" It was an irresistible and conclusive argument.

Comment était ce Paris? Quel nom démesuré! Elle se le répétait à demi-voix, pour se faire plaisir; il sonnait à ses oreilles comme un bourdon de cathédrale, il flamboyait à ses yeux jusque sur l'étiquette de ses pots de pommade.

Elle souhaitait à la fois mourir et habiter Paris.

Dietro le Tuileries, il cielo si tingeva di ardesia, gli alberi del giardino formavano due masse enormi, violacee in alto. Si accendevano i lampioni a gas, e la Senna, verdastra in tutta la sua estensione, si lacerava in un marezzo d'argento contro i pilastri del ponte.

Er träumte sich sein Pariser Zimmer aus. Dort wollte er das Leben eines Bohémien führen. Gitarre wollte er spielen lernen, einen Schlafrock tragen, dazu ein Samtbarett und Hausschuhe aus blauem Plüsch. Und über dem Kamin sollten zwei gekreuzte Floretts hängen, ein Totenschädel darüber und die Gitarre darunter. Wundervoll!

She had purchased for herself a blotting-case, stationery, a penholder and some envelopes, although she had no one to write to; she wiped the dust off her shelves, looked at herself in the mirror, took down a book, then, dreaming between the lines, let it fall in her lap. She had a desire to travel, or to go back and live at her convent. She wished both to die and to live in Paris.

Elle avait envie de faire des voyages ou de retourner vivre à son couvent. Elle souhaitait à la fois mourir et habiter Paris.

The air of Paris is quite different from any other. There's something about it which thrills and excites and intoxicates you, and in some strange way makes you want to dance and do all sorts of other silly things. As soon as I get out of the train, it's just as if I had drunk a bottle of champagne. What a time one could have surrounded by artists! How happy those lucky people must be, the great men who have made a name in a city like Paris! What a wonderful life they have!

When Victor Hugo was buried, you couldn't find a whore in all of Paris. They were too busy paying their respects. That was a man – and he still has a show on in the West End.

We made our entrance into Paris. As for honors, we received all that we could possibly imagine; but they, though very well in their way, were not what touched me most. What was really affecting was the tenderness and earnestness of the poor people, who, in spite of the taxes with which they are overwhelmed, were transported with joy at seeing us.

Thanks to the Tour de France, riding the Champs-Elysees has a great cycling history.

Like many other tourists, I'm afraid I fell in love with Paris at first sight.

I have to fit holidays around tournaments, particularly the grand slams, in Melbourne, Paris, London and New York.