Silent, grim, colossal, the Big City has ever stood against its
revilers. They call it hard as iron; they say that nothing of
pity beats in its bosom; they compare its streets with lonely
forests and deserts of lava. But beneath the hard crust of the
lobster is found a delectable and luscious food. Perhaps a
different simile would have been wiser. Still nobody should take
offence. We would call nobody a lobster with good and sufficient
claws.
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One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years
One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years
Far below and around lay the city like a ragged purple dream.
The irregular houses were like the broken read more
Far below and around lay the city like a ragged purple dream.
The irregular houses were like the broken exteriors of cliffs
lining deep gulches and winding streams. Some were mountainous;
some lay in long, monotonous rows like, the basalt precipices
hanging over desert canons. Such was the background of the
wonderful, cruel, enchanting, bewildering, fatal, great city.
But into this background were cut myriads of brilliant
parallelograms and circles and squares through which glowed many
colored lights. And out of the violet and purple depths ascended
like the city's soul, sound and odors and thrills that make up
the civic body. There arose the breath of gaiety unrestrained,
of love, of hate, of all the passions that man can know. There
below him lay all things, good or bad, that can be brought from
the four corners of the earth to instruct, please, thrill,
enrich, elevate, cast down, nurture or kill. Thus the flavor of
it came up to him and went into his blood.
Well, little old Noisyville-on-the-Subway is good enough for
me. . . . Me for it from the rathskellers up. read more
Well, little old Noisyville-on-the-Subway is good enough for
me. . . . Me for it from the rathskellers up. Sixth Avenue is
the West now to me.
I went to see a band in New York. The lead singer got on the microphone, and he said How read more
I went to see a band in New York. The lead singer got on the microphone, and he said How many of you people feel like human beings tonight? Then he said How many of you feel like animals? And everyone cheered after the animals part. But the thing is, I cheered after the human being part because I did not know that there was a second part to the question.
I can't wait to get back to New York City where at least when I walk down the streat, no read more
I can't wait to get back to New York City where at least when I walk down the streat, no one ever hesitates to tell me exactly what they think of me.
It couldn't have happened anywhere but in little old New York.
It couldn't have happened anywhere but in little old New York.
Stream of the living world
Where dash the billows of strife!--
One plunge in the mighty torrent
read more
Stream of the living world
Where dash the billows of strife!--
One plunge in the mighty torrent
Is a year of tamer life!
City of glorious days,
Of hope, and labour and mirth,
With room and to spare, on thy splendid bays
For the ships of all the earth!
In dress, habits, manners, provincialism, routine and narrowness,
he acquired that charming insolence, that irritating
completeness, that sophisticated read more
In dress, habits, manners, provincialism, routine and narrowness,
he acquired that charming insolence, that irritating
completeness, that sophisticated crassness, that overbalanced
poise that makes the Manhattan gentleman so delightfully small in
his greatness.
You'd think New York people was all wise; but no, they can't get
a chance to learn. Every thing's read more
You'd think New York people was all wise; but no, they can't get
a chance to learn. Every thing's too compressed. Even the
hay-seeds are bailed hay-seeds. But what else can you expect
from a town that's shut off for the world by the ocean on one
side and New Jersey on the other?
