Urban Quotes
If I hadn’t stopped to thank the ghoul, I might not be covered in rotting, slimy, dead guy. I shook my head ruefully and continued walking. No good deed goes unpunished.
What, " asked Mr Croup, "do you want?""What, " asked the Marquis de Carabas, a little more rhetorically, "does anyone want?""Dead things, " suggested Mr Vandemar. "Extra teeth.
You got secrets you better keepTake flight before she cuts you deep- Sam's song
If there was a light at the end of the tunnel, the flickering bulb above my head wasn’t it. The faces of my tormentors were no angels—they were hell’s minions and I’d stepped into their purgatory.
So I flirt with disaster once or twice. Who doesn’t?”He snorted. “You don’t just flirt with disaster, you have intercourse with it.
Right now. Living. Aiming to misbehave or just trying not to fade away.
Shit happens. But so does magic." ~ Celia Wird, SEALED WITH A CURSE: A Weird Girls Novel
But, self, that thing was on TV, and this one wants to tear your liver out your nose. Run.
At the sight of Day, her whole face lit up. "Mikhail! You came! Barbara said you would, but that we might have to wait for hell to freeze over first. Did it?
My brother, are you aware that you are presently taking the form of a rather large and distinctly emerald-hued bear? Not that it isn't an improvement on your usual excessive good lucks, but...
I should tell you something about what happens after I play.""What's that?"He pulled her back into his arms. "I get excited...
She pushed his massive chest, which was as effective as if she pushed granite. "What are you made of, bloody stone?" He chuckled, eyes full of mirth. "Sometimes.
Maybe next time you'll take me up on dinner." "I doubt it, Mr. Holbrook. I'm pretty sure hell will freeze over first." Again he smiled. "Well, that may be happening sooner than you think, my dear.
Girls, you listen to every word your mamma is saying, cause the only way you'll ever get a better piece of chicken is if you're a rooster.
Wrong. This was wrong. A list of words raced through his head. Apostate, heretic, pagan.Witch.
These were the new girls of New York- complete with rapid heartbeats from too much nicotine and coffee. They were nervous and fluttery but completely alluring- the new face of urban femininity.
He took me down and out into the afterlife of the brightly lit streets, a haze of rain around each streetlight like a galaxy, the whole street a universe spread out like a banquet.
Don’t worry, ” I said. “We won’t be having slumber parties and spa days any time soon.” “I quite like spa days.
Being human was a lot more difficult than it looked. Demon was easy. Demon was simple. Human was…terrifying." Muse
The skyscrapers of the city had finished scraping all the sky away, and the clouds overhead were exactly the color of concrete and I was safe and cold in a canyon of glass and steel.
A chaotic mix of emotions churned inside him. Relief. Anger. Longing. She was the last person in the world he wanted to see. She was the only person in the world he wanted to see.
Winter was gray and mean upon the city and every night was a package of cold bleak hours, like the hours in a cell that had no door.
I’d gone from living alone in New York as a lowly shoe clerk to becoming a shieldmaiden with a family to come home to. It didn’t get much better than that.
New York presented a paradox. While foreigners thought of New York has the symbol of America, many Americans viewed the city with some suspicion as the country's most foreign.
The County Jail looked like a tall, forbidding elementary school. Seven stories of dirty brown brick, one hundred years old and now operating at 330 percent of capacity.
It's a strange city... filled with things that are not obvious.
We all tend to think of ourselves as the last unsinning inhabitants of whatever place we live in. We don't usually recognize ourselves as participants in its destruction.
For him, the kampung was a place to live and work that was based on a steadfast and intimate relationship between man and nature. The village was a true reflection of life in the tropics.
There’s a saying that all roads lead to Ankh-Morpork, greatest of Discworld c
…my books are derived from city images, and the city of my dreams or nightmares is Mexico City. (The Art of Fiction, No. 68. The Paris Review, No. 82, Winter 1981.)
An advanced city is not a place where the poor move about in cars, rather it’s where even the rich use public transportation
The man slips along the stoically congealed houses Perpendicular like them A moving ornament Burning fiction His fragility contradicts the duration of his torments