new-york-city

I would stay in New York, I told him, just six months, and I could see the Brooklyn Bridge from my window. As it turned out the bridge was the Triborough, and I stayed eight years.

Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall, northward. What do you see?__osted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks glasses! of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep. But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster_ tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks. How then is this? Are the green fields gone?

New York, like London, seems to be a cloacina [toilet] of all the depravities of human nature.

Critics in New York are made by their dislikes, not by their enthusiasms.

East Side, West Side, all around the town,The tots sang "Ring-a-rosie, London Bridge is falling Down;Boys and Girls together, me and Mamie O'Rorke, Tripped the light fantastic on the sidewalks of New York.

New York is an ugly city, a dirty city. Its climate is a scandal, its politics are used to frighten children, its traffic is madness, its competition is murderous. But there is one thing about it - once you have lived in New York and it has become your home, no place else is good enough.

new york provides not only a continuing excitation but also a spectacle that is continuing.

You can do what you like, sir, but I'll tell you this. New York is the true capital of America. Every New Yorker knows it, and by God, we always shall.

One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years.

I look out the window and I see the lights and the skyline and the people on the street rushing around looking for action, love, and the world's greatest chocolate chip cookie, and my heart does a little dance.

Each neighborhood of the city appeared to be made of a different substance, each seemed to have a different air pressure, a different psychic weight: the bright lights and shuttered shops, the housing projects and luxury hotels, the fire escapes and city parks.

One of those out-of-the-ordinary days that made sense of the slew of ordinary days. New York had a way of doing that. Every now and then the city shook its soul out. It assailed you with an image, or a day, or a crime, or a terror, or a beauty so difficult to wrap your mind around that you had to shake your head in disbelief.

Pittsburgh was even more vital, more creative, more hungry for culture than New York. Pittsburgh was the birthplace of my writing.

...for in that city [New York] there is neurosis in the air which the inhabitants mistake for energy.

There is more sophistication and less sense in New York than anywhere else on the globe.

People go to LA to "find themselves", they come to New York to become someone new.

Sometimes, from beyond the skycrapers, the cry of a tugboat finds you in your insomnia, and you remember that this desert of iron and cement is an island.

New York is the only city in the world where you can get run down on the sidewalk by a pedestrian.