Quotes About Shanghai

When I was at Shanghai SIPG, I had the Brazilian player Hulk, who had joined for over £50 million from Zenit St Petersburg. He had no problems with life in China - his only problem was that he got injured on his debut and was out for two months after that. But I never heard him complain about life in China at all - everything else was good.

If I am duly compared to Marlon Brando at all, well, I can only think of The Teahouse of the 'Shanghai Noon,' that they're comparing me to that!

During the 1960s, the Shanghai of my childhood seemed a portent of the media cities of the future, dominated by advertising and mass circulation newspapers and swept by unpredictable violence.

I grew up in Shanghai, a big urban city.

The fans are really good in China - not only Shanghai; wherever I go, everybody who stops me is super nice.

A peek inside the city's many nightspots reveals a Shangri-La-di-da of tiny Shanghai socialites in even tinier outfits dancing provocatively with well-to-do Westerners. But while such sights may draw gasps from some people, the truth is that this kind of thing is nothing new for Shanghai, the Orient's original opium-den of iniquity.

Shanghai set out to take over from Hong Kong and I think it's done that. It's got the most amazing futuristic skyline which rivals and even betters Tokyo.

[Shanghai Biennale] has been my attitude for as long as I've been practicing art and other cultural-related activities.

Wars came early to Shanghai, overtaking each other like the tides that raced up the Yangtze.

The surrealists, and the modern movement in painting as a whole, seemed to offer a key to the strange postwar world with its threat of nuclear war. The dislocations and ambiguities, in cubism and abstract art as well as the surrealists, reminded me of my childhood in Shanghai.

Within my own life, I read all the beloved novels by lamps of vegetable oil; I saw the Standard Oil invading my own village, I saw gas lamps in the Chinese shops in Shanghai; and I saw their elimination by electric lights.

three decades of the twentieth century, Shanghai was considered the essence of exoticism, mystery, and excitement. As an open city, it required neither a visa nor passport to enter, providing a haven for an extraordinarily eclectic array of immigrants, among them White Russians fleeing from the Bolsheviks; Chinese warlords and revolutionaries; American and European gangsters and spies; drug smugglers; and international arms dealers.

The twentieth century will be American. American thought will dominate it. American progress will give it color and direction. American deeds will make it illustrious. Civilization will never lose its hold on Shanghai. Civilization will never depart from Hongkong. The gates of Peking will never again be closed to the methods of modern man. The regeneration of the world, physical as well as moral, has begun, and revolutions never move backwards.

David Ibañez was in town. . . . Both he and Rafael suffered from terrible hay fever and nursed cups of a naturally decongesting tea made from the mahuang plant, brewing more tea for anyone else who needed it. David had brought the mahuang seeds from an herbalist in Shanghai, and Rafael kept a good crop of the low, scrubby bush in his yard at all times. He said it was the best hay fever treatment he knew, and whenever Santa Ana weather kicked in, he was the most popular man in the valley.

Shanghai set out to take over from Hong Kong and I think it's done that. It's got the most amazing futuristic skyline which rivals and even betters Tokyo.