Quotes About Neighborhood

A clear cold morning with high wind: we caught in a trap a large gray wolf, and last night obtained in the same way a fox who had for some time infested the neighbourhood of the fort.

My mother was born in San Juan. So I'm Puerto Rican, Jewish, colored and married to a white woman. When I move into a neighborhood, people start running four ways at the same time.

And we live in a French Quarter a lot of the time, in New Orleans. And the camaraderie of everybody there. Everybody takes care of each other.

The essential London scenes is a row of low identical houses set around a square.

It's really strange watching people walk past. They all seem to be in such a hurry that they nearly trip over their own feet. Those on bicycles whiz by so fast I can't even tell who's on the bike. The people in this neighborhood aren't particularly attractive to look at. The children especially are so dirty you wouldn't want to touch them with a ten-foot pole. Real slum kids with runny noses. I can hardly understand a word they say.

My mind is a neighborhood I try not to go into alone.

Their song reminds me of a child's neighborhood rallying cry—ee-ock-ee—with a heartfelt warble at the end. But it is their call that is especially endearing. The towhee has the brass and grace to call, simply and clearly, tweet. I know of no other bird that stoops to literal tweeting.

It just so happened that for most of my life I've lived in the suburbs.

delineated with signs reading: TOWN OF AMHERST WATERSHED NO TRESPASSING Which every boy in the neighborhood understood as: PRIVATE PRESERVE FOR KIDS

Last summer, when he thought I wasn't looking, I observed Cubby telling one of the neighborhood six-year-olds that there were dragons living in the storm drains, under our street. 'We feed them meat...and then they don't get hungry and blow fire and roast us.' Little James listened closely, with a very serious expression on his face. Then he ran home to get some hot dogs from his mother.

We were two miles from Bunker Hill, in the east part of town, in the section of factories and breweries. She

These revolting scenes created a great sensation at the time, were the talk of the town and neighborhood, and I flatter myself that the actions of those who had conspired against me were not viewed in a light to reflect much credit upon them.

More was expected of her, her usual engagement replete with queries and analysis and a kind of domestication of the topic so that it became like a furry pet with a life of its own, all of which he had come to depend on. The way a cat depends on your petting when it puts. The purring forces you to keep petting. Even after you're tired. Even after you want to move on. Veblen has been detained countless hours in neighborhood walks, not sure when to break away, by purring cats.

We live in the country. I'm a redneck. No, ha-ha. I live in L.A. County, but more in the hills. Not in the fancy kind! Trust me whatever you do you do not want to come to my neighborhood!

your mind is like an unsafe neighborhood; don't go there alone.

I was probably 15 when I started going to the studio with the older cats in my neighborhood. They heard me rap outside one time; I was just freestyling. And they invited me to the studio. It's good when you're accepted, no matter what crowd. That's the first step of believing you can do whatever you feel like putting your mind to.

Highbridge - everybody rap in Highbridge; everyone grew up rappin' or playing basketball.

Hackney gets a bit of a bad rap, but it's the only place I've ever lived that felt like a community. I know my neighbours.

One of my homeboys from my neighborhood had actually taught me how to rap. He was the rapper and we would all go over to his house. It would be like 10 or 12 of us in there and he'd write everybody's rap in the house and would give everybody four or eight bars.

Where I grew up, the basketball courts were rarely used.

When I was old enough to walk home alone from school, I loved seeing our house from a distance. It sat on the corner of South Muirfield Road and West 4th Street and had this proud, majestic look. But I rarely went through the front door. The back was more dramatic.

The first time I met Ray, I was going to school around the corner from his house. One day, he was playing the piano. I eased up on the porch to listen to him.

Deacon Jones grew up a street over from my grandfather, where I was raised.

I grew up in Midtown Manhattan.