Quotes About California

I have always identified with Joan Didion's depiction of Los Angeles and Southern California, ever since reading 'Play It As It Lays,' 'Slouching Towards Bethlehem' and 'The White Album.'

I've written a lot about southern California, but I don't use the same characters. Leave the people in the songs in the songs, is my philosophy.

I never saw a gun until I was 24. I didn't grow up in Mayberry; I grew up in Southern California.

My father had a lot of allergies, and he just didn't like the cold of Chicago, and his father - his parents had broken up when he was young, and his father had lived in Pasadena for a while, and he kind of fell in love with Southern California.

You could be a locavore in Florida or southern California. But I tried that. It was really limiting.

I know everywhere is cool and all, but, at least for me, I was lucky enough to be in southern California. I feel lucky to be from there... I feel like it taught me how to be polite.

I've always been drawn back to the South, whether it's Southern California or in Florida, where I grew up, and I wanted to write a song about that.

When I first came to Southern California I enrolled at UCLA in pre-med. My fathers a doctor. But the sight of blood turns me off, so I began doing television commercials.

More and more Americans are experiencing the direct impacts of climate change, from the wildfires in California, to devastating hurricanes in the Southeast, to drought in the Southwest. And they are choosing candidates who are ready to do something about it.

Home can be the Pennsylvania TurnpikeIndiana's early morning dewHigh up in the hills of CaliforniaHome is just another word for you

In a now famous experiment they found that the majority of people, whether predictors or nonpredictors, will judge a deadly flood (causing thousands of deaths) caused by a California earthquake to be more likely than a fatal flood (causing thousands of deaths) occurring somewhere in North America (which happens to include California).

We went up the Harbor freeway north and then we cut onto the San Diego freeway north. I hated the San Diego freeway. It always jammed. Then I noticed a slight rain beginning to fall. That's it, I said, it's beginning to rain. All the cars were going to stop. California drivers didn't know how to drive in the rain.

Sometimes I think I might not have written 'The Age of Miracles' if I hadn't grown up in California, if I hadn't been exposed to its very particular blend of beauty and disaster, of danger and denial.

When I moved to the United States, I first went to California to be the chef at Campton Place. As much as I loved California, I really missed the seasons. So when I moved to New York, I had that again.

I have a house here in California and come back every month and a half to see my kids. And they come to New York.

In fact, if any state wants to spend any money to do better at helping mother earth out. I'm okay with that - even California.

My memories begin in a fragrant California backyard, when I was two years old. The yard remains, infinitely smaller than it once seemed but still heady with eucalyptus oil and sudden gusts of ocean air, just as it was in 1956.

In his ground-breaking book UFO Crash at Aztec, Californian researcher William Steinman covers for the first time some related information about Dr.

He could not tell all of the California pines apart, the gray pine from the coulter, the bushop from the knobcone and the Monterey.

Stay here and do the packing and let the young one run all over California for you! Don't you always say the success of collecting is in the packing? You're the boss--take the most important role and stop moaning!

For some reason and I don't know why, but I don't think that I'm funny in California. So I always want to do my movies east somewhere.

What kind of world would this postrailroad era be for California, now that it was less than a week's journey from the East Coast?

There has always been something slightly bipolar about California. It was either utopia or dystopia, a dream or a nightmare, a hope or a broken promise— and too infrequently anything in between.

The world was still rushing in—legally and illegally, as it turned out—not to escape reality in California, to bask in the unearned increment, but to struggle competitively in a society that had only recently begun to internalize in its myth of itself what the Spanish philosopher Miguel de Unamuno called the tragic sense of life.