Quotes About Town

What kind of town is this What sort of streets are these Who invented this who profits by it I saw peddlers at every corner they're selling little guillotines with tiny sharp blades and dolls filled with red liquid which spurts fro the neck when the sentence is carried out. What kind of children are these who can play with this toys so efficiently and who is judging

The ghosts who had come with them were hurrying towards the town, so many that they looked like the grains of sand that trickle towards the hole of an hourglass

incandesce, v.: You are the light of the far-off town, the promise on the dark path.

The tune here is an old-fashioned town-crowd melody--kind of like how the people from the town in The Music Man might sound if Harold Hill had brought an infant homosexual to town instead of wind instruments.

It's a dull, quiet building in a dull, quiet town—its architecture as beautiful as the word municipal.

This town is the Greek Baltimore.

Summer left Wellington abruptly and slammed the door on the way out. The shudder sent leaves to the ground all at once, and Zora Belsey had that strange, late-September feeling that somewhere in a small classroom with small chairs an elementary school teacher was waiting for her. It seemed wrong that she should be walking towards town without a shiny tie and a pleated skirt, without a selection of scented erasers. Time is not what it is but how it is felt, and Zora felt no different.

Every morning the world flung itself over and exposed the town to the sun.

Rumor, that wingless bird, had shadowed over the town.

There was no doubt that the town respected him and even admired him in a way. But any man who walks in the way of power and property is bound to meet hate. So when speakers stood up when the occasion demanded and said "Our beloved Mayor," it was one of those statements that everybody says but nobody actually believes like "God is everywhere.

The town produces somewhat the same effect upon the mind as a sleeping-draught upon the body. It is silent as Venice.

Lud-in-the-Mist had all the things that make an old town pleasant. It had an ancient Guild Hall, built of mellow golden bricks and covered with ivy and, when the sun shone on it, it looked like a rotten apricot; it had a harbour in which rode vessels with white and red tawny sails; it had flat brick houses - not the mere carapace of human beings, but ancient living creatures, renewing and modifying themselves with each generation under their changeless antique roofs.

You can't have a church town without belief and you can't have belief without intolerance.

Listen here people, listen to me Don't try to buy no home down in Washington D.C. 'Cause it's a bourgeois town wooh it's a bourgeois town! I got the bourgeois blues I'm gonna spread the news all around

I can't explain what happened and I am not even going to try. Let's just forget that this ever happened and have a meal in town.

The ride through town and out to the gorge was filled with that inane 'how was your day' chitchat which seems to mark the beginning of new friendships that don't yet have enough momentum to simply pick up where the last conversation ended.

It was a brave city, she decided, eyeing them. Brave in its other sense; not courageous, so much as outstanding, commanding. It was too nice a town to die in. Though it had no honeysuckle vines and no balconies and no guitars, it was meant for love. For living and for love, and the two were inseparable; one didn't come without the other. ("Too Nice A Day To Die")

Living history is thrilling, especially in an eloquent city, in a talkative town, in a place where people fought to get here, fought to stay here, fought to get out.

Life got its tentacles around you, its hooks into your heart, and suddenly you come awake as if for the first time, and you are standing in a part of the town where the air is sweet—your face flushed, your chest thumping, your stomach a planet, your heart a planet, your every organ a separate planet, all of it of a piece though the pieces turn separately, O silent indications of the inevitable, as among the natural restraints of winter and good sense, life blows you apart in her arms.

genuinely, and said, "This is exactly what I needed." He asked if something was wrong and it all came out in one breathless stream. She thought Leo was on a bender. Or that he'd skipped town. She told him about the accident, about

Portland, Maine, is more like a big town than a booming metropolis. It was built around fishing, turned to manufacturing, but then eventually became one of those cities that you don't really know why it exists other than to take care of itself. The population was only around sixty thousand, but that still made it the biggest city in Maine.

'Seconds' is grounded in the reality of this restaurant environment, and I did do plenty of research, so there's that. It takes place in a town that is like a kinder, gentler fairy tale version of reality. Then it takes off into a story that is very strange, very mental.

There is a certain sentimental vibe in my home town of Manchester, which you would sort of expect.

If you want to understand what's happening to the situation in a town in Afghanistan, go down to the market. Is it vibrant? Is it safe? That will tell you an enormous amount about the security situation.