I know that you should always say yes to adventures or you'll lead a very dull life.

Cities have the capability of providing something for everybody, only because, and only when, they are created by everybody.

Streets and their sidewalks-the main public places of a city-are its most vital organs.

Designing a dream city is easy; rebuilding a living one takes imagination.

There is no logic that can be superimposed on the city; people make it, and it is to them, not buildings, that we must fit our plans.

Intricate minglings of different uses in cities are not a form of chaos. On the contrary, they represent a complex and highly developed form of order.

While you are looking, you might as well also listen, linger and think about what you see.

The ballet of the good city sidewalk never repeats itself from place to place, and in any one place is always replete with new improvisations.

This is something everyone knows: A well-used city street is apt to be a safe street. A deserted city street is apt to be unsafe.

People must take a modicum of public responsibility for each other even if they have no ties to each other.

This is what a city is, bits and pieces that supplement each other and support each other.

Colder by the hour, more dead with every breath.

We were contented to let things remain as the Great Spirit Chief made them. They were not; and would change the rivers and mountains if they did not suit them.

I strongly support Roe v. Wade, which guarantees a constitutional right to a woman to make the most intimate, most difficult, in many cases, decisions about her health care that one can imagine.

I overthink a lot of things.

Faith in the face of disappointment is only enhanced by laughter in the face of pain.

Well it's because the record companies are pumping away with their commercial stuff. I think it's a shame.

I had no idea that history was being made. I was just tired of giving up.

A winner never stops trying.

In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond.

Sad fancies do we then affect, In luxury of disrespect To our own prodigal excess Of too familiar happiness.