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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.
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?
George Washington, with his right art upraised, sits his iron
horse at the lower corner of Union Square. . read more
George Washington, with his right art upraised, sits his iron
horse at the lower corner of Union Square. . . . Should the
General raise his left hand as he has raised his right, it would
point to a quarter of the city that forms a haven for the
oppressed and suppressed of foreign lands. In the cause of
national or personal freedom they have found refuge here, and the
patriot who made it for them sits his steed, overlooking their
district, while he listens through his left ear to vaudeville
that caricatures the posterity of the proteges.
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here read more
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of exiles.
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.
It couldn't have happened anywhere but in little old New York.
It couldn't have happened anywhere but in little old New York.
Up in the heights of the evening skies I see my City of Cities
float
In sunset's golden read more
Up in the heights of the evening skies I see my City of Cities
float
In sunset's golden and crimson dyes: I look and a great joy
clutches my throat!
Plateau of roofs by canyons crossed: windows by thousands
fire-furled--
O gazing, how the heart is lost in the Deepest City in the World.
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.
A car is useless in New York, essential everywhere else. The same with good manners.
A car is useless in New York, essential everywhere else. The same with good manners.