Quotes About Paris

If you want to visit Paris, the best time to go is during August, when there aren't any French people there

And sometimes a Pearl of the Orient could be a Paris of the Orient as well. The Parisians and the French and just about everyone meant that as a compliment, but it was a backhanded compliment, the only kind a colonizer could give to the colonized.

There is but one Paris and however hard living may be here, and if it became worse and harder even—the French air clears up the brain and does good—a world of good.

It is clear to me that there is a je ne sais quoi - I already see it in your words, pictures of some little corners in Paris, etc., even now I should see it in your first sketches and studies. When I think of Father, it seems to me that the good in him is due to his intercourse with nature, and in my opinion his error is that he attaches more value to other things than they are really worth.

The four courtisans or grandes horizontales whose lives and legends are examined in this book were all, in different ways, representative of the demi-monde in nineteenth-century Paris - that is, of that half-world midway between respectable high society and the low life of the common prostitute. demi-monde is a term suggestive of twilight, of a world of shifting appearances and shadow, where nothing is quite what it seems, a world between worlds.

Don't kill the messenger, but I'm think you should change your dating profil to balding." -- Paris to William

Along the Paris streets, the death-carts rumble, hollow and harsh. Six tumbrils carry the day's wine to La Guillotine.

Living in Paris might kill her, but it was a good way to die.

Maybe I'd move to Tibet, climb a mountain with the Dalai Lama or head to Paris and wear nothing but black, grow myself a keen goatee and talk about jazz all the time. Or maybe I'd do what I always do - hang out and see what develops. Fatalist to the core.

up to your ears in whores and poetesses in Paris." "Poetesses?" Jamie was beginning to sound amused. "What makes ye think women write poetry? Or that a woman who writes poetry would be wanton?" "Well, o' course they are. Everybody kens that. The words get into their heads and drive them mad, and they

in Paris of any substance over the last months, and they're united in basic disinterest." He smiled wryly. "Money's none so plentiful that anyone wants to back a dicey proposition like the Stuart restoration." "And that," I said, stretching my back

Paris had its sweetest smell, the smell of chestnut trees in bloom and of petrol with a few grains of dust that crack under your teeth like pepper. In the darknes the danger seemed to grow. You could smell the suffering in the air, in the silence. Everyone looked at their house and thought, "Tomorrow it will be in ruins, tomorrow I'l have nothing left.

It seems impossible, in a big city like Paris, but you can waste hours looking for the right place to burn up a corpse.

The problem with shooting in Paris is, it's been shot to death. When you're in it, you already think you're in a movie, so how do you get away from that feeling, and give some frisson to the viewer?

A long time ago, I thought, as a writer in the Caribbean, 'I don't ever want to have to write 'It was great in Paris.'' Because I don't think, proportionately speaking, that one's experience in a city as opposed to, say, a village in St. Lucia, is superior to the other.

First in France, first in Romania - by land and sea to the English and Paris. Marvellous deeds by that great alliance. The violent brute will lose Lorraine.

Virtually no other state concentrates as much political, economic and cultural power in its capital city. Even Paris is less economically dominant than London and its hinterland.

Paris has long been a palimpsest of different cities, each new iteration grafted on top of the still visible last, spanning the extremes of human excellence and beauty and, just as crucially, filth and squalor.

I can never tire of speaking of the bridges of Paris. By day and by night have I paused on them to gaze at their views; the word not being too comprehensive for the crowds and groupings of objects that are visible from their arches.

Bérénice ne pouvait s'empêcher d'allier à Paris frémissant, inconnu, mystérieux, ce grand garçon silencieux qui n'avait rien fait pour l'importuner, qui lui avait tout juste passé les plats à table, mais dont elle avait une fois rencontré le regard.

I'll pray that you grow up a brave man in a brave country," Clara said. "I will pray you find a way to be useful," Gamache completed the quote. Reine-Marie dropped her eyes to her hands and saw the paper napkin twisted and shredded there. Clara nodded slowly. "I think you might be right. Peter went to Paris not to find a new artistic voice. It was simpler than that. He wanted to find a way to be useful.

Le Bon Marché was the oldest, the first, store of its kind in Paris. Practically in the world. Opened in 1852, it predated Selfridges in London by more than half a century. In fact, the Hôtel Lutetia was built by the owner of Le Bon Marché, primarily to give his customers someplace to stay while spending money in his remarkable store.

patrons. Courage must always be rewarded. The other thing Jacques remembered was looking down the long corridor as Monsieur Horowitz paused at the mosaic in the tile floor by the entrance to the Hôtel Lutetia. It was the symbol of the hotel, and also the ancient symbol of Paris. The city had originally been called Lutetia. And her emblem was a ship in peril on a stormy sea. That symbol was imbedded in the hotel floor.

Fluctuat nec mergitur." Every schoolchild in Paris learned those words. It was the motto of the ancient settlement of Lutetia. And of Paris.