Quotes About Paris

My ambition was to be cosmopolitan. I grew up in the suburbs. I went to college in Maine. I had a dream in my head that if you wanted to be the most urbane, living-life-to-the-fullest kind of person, Paris was the place to be.

I grew up in Paris. Well, in the suburbs of Paris.

I was born in Paris, and I haven't moved, except until now - I live in the suburbs and I hate it.

In Paris, where I live, the inner neighborhoods are only available to the white elite. The poor and dispossessed are shuffled out to suburbs and never seen.

I have an affinity with Algeria, because I grew up with plenty of Algerian friends in the suburbs of Paris.

Football is open to anyone, especially somebody like me who grew up in the Paris suburbs.

I'd sometimes go to Paris by myself - it was an easy two-hour train ride - to get a break from the everyday grind, to walk around a big city, ride a subway, feel the energy of a world capital.

I lived in Paris for two years with my family. I would roam the streets of Paris during the day for a few hours in the subway, on the streets, and I listened to the French language, and I got a sense of the rhythm and the melody of the language.

Chic rarely bothers to leave the Rue De Faubourg Saint-Honore.

Paris is one of the most beautiful places in all the world. Unfortunately, I was so homesick I couldn't appreciate its beauty.

The siren that is this city speaks to us insistently even after we've moved away. She belongs to us, truly, and to each in a different way. Paris nous appartient.

Living in Paris is "priceless," but it will cost you. It ain't cheap, yet it is one of the greatest bargains on earth. In our day and age, there are only two ways to get free of money worries: either accumulate wealth, lots of it, or move to Paris.

Janet Flanner made an interesting observation midway through the year [1947]: in Paris, stores frequented by women, the biggest selling goods were, unsurprisingly, ... But the second item they were ordering was prams, a biological vote of confidence in the future.

All I wanted was to connect my moods with those of Paris. Beauty pains and when it pained most, I shot.

Paris, like every pretty woman, is subject to inexplicable whims of beauty and ugliness.

When good Americans die they go to Paris.

There's a very apt saying in show business: "If you don't go over budget in Paris, you're either very rich or very sick. "

The production of obscurity in Paris compares to the production of motor cars in Detroit in the great period of American industry.

What Paris has done right is to make it awful to get around by car and awfully easy to get around by public transportation or by bike.

The idea of Saint Paul whirling around in the giant teacups wile composing First Corinthians, as Paris TV films him with a telephoto lens—that just can't be. Saint Paul would never go near Disneyland. Only children, tourists, and visiting Soviet high officials ever go to Disneyland. Saints do not.

With practice I will eventually realize my goal; in the meantime, come to Paris and you will find me, headphones plugged tight in my external audio meatus, walking the quays and whispering, 'Has anything else been inserted into your anus? Has anything else been inserted into your anus?

September 14, 2001 What killed me, what killed many of us, was the very end: My home sweet home. Because, whatever else Paris might be, this _is not_ our home, it's just the place where we have our jobs or apartments. How could we have forgotten that?

Given the choice between four perfectly acceptable movies, they invariably opt for a walk through the Picasso museum or a tour of the cathedral, saying, "I didn't come all the way to Paris so I can sit in the dark." They make it sound so bad. "Yes," I say, "but this is the French dark. It's… darker than the dark we have back home.

Built around 1780... a two-hour train ride from Paris... the neighbor keeps his horses in my backyard... pies made with apples from my own trees... I caught the highlights of Hugh's broadcast and understood that my first goal was to make him my boyfriend, to trick or blackmail him into making some sort of commitment. I know it sounds calculating, but if you're not cute, you might as well be clever.