Best 64 quotes in «apartment quotes» category

I do a great deal of research, especially in the apartments of tall blondes.

I don't live in the papal residence. I live in a simple apartment behind the Vatican gas station.

I don't think taste is about money. As your career develops, you're able to decide what to spend your money on. I live in a really small apartment in London, and that's a choice. I live at The Carlyle in New York, but it's not big. It's about making choices of style over flashiness. People's style is subjective and mine happens to be around the classical because I feel comfortable with that, and because of my background. I'm probably living in the wrong time. I should have lived in the Thirties or the Fifties.

I entered his apartment without being invited, which is perfectly fine if you're not a vampire.

I go to dance clubs...about once a year just to justify the other 364 days I spend in my apartment going 'God, what idiots!'

If they had wanted to punish me, they should have kept me in a communal apartment. Then I would have become a wreck.

I found myself serving a sentence of public denial from the very second the raid on my apartment happened.

I have an apartment back home in London. England will be home for me. It always has been and always will be. It's where my friends are.

I live in an apartment building built in 1925, and it hasn't been heavily renovated, so I feel very much connected to that time and what went on in that place.

I lived in a studio apartment until my mid-30s. I don't have an extravagant lifestyle.

I'm in a loft and the kitchen is in the very center of the apartment. The whole place revolves around it.

I met Andy Warhol in the '60s, a wonderful time, with wonderful people. There was Fred Hughes, and Jed Johnson, who I liked a lot. Jed Johnson decorated my apartment in New York, at the Pierre. It was his first job.

In fact, I had previously helped train one of the FBI agents who searched my apartment.

I knew Bill Cunninghamn personally, in the way that most people know him - you don't really know that much about him. So I had never been in his apartment, as most people hadn't. I really had no idea how he lived. I knew he lived in Carnegie Hall, but that was it, and I didn't really understand. I knew that he worked hard, I just didn't realize that that was what he does, that's basically all he does

I resist the temptation to curate my apartment.

I'm the biggest slob in the world. My apartment is a mess.

I sold my apartment this year. It's like, Wow, this is where the arts are now.

In June, 2010, I moved out of my apartment and I have been mostly homeless ever since.

It's just a spare room in my apartment. It's very cluttered and not particularly aesthetically inspiring, and it's very un-noise-proof.

I ran my own business when I was 19, buying condos and renovating apartment buildings.

It's really hard to get any work done in my apartment when my bed is also in my apartment.

It was in Cihangir that i first learned Istanbul was not an anonymous multitude of walled-in lives - a jungle of apartments where no one knew who was dead or who was celebrating what - but an archipelago of neighbourhoods in which everyone knew each other.

I used to sit on the roof of the apartment where Jim Morrison used to write his early lyrics

Is there anyone in this apartment who hasn’t seen me naked?” I demanded, grabbing the sheet and the phone. “I genuinely hope so, Cassandra.

My apartment reflects my views as an architect. It is minimal, austere. The architecture doesn't impose itself upon you. The apartment is a stage for other things to take place.

I was born and bred in a tiny, low-ceilinged ground-floor apartment.

One of my favourite movies is Billy Wilder's 'The Apartment.' It's shot in super wide screen, and it's beautiful.

My boyfriend always says that if it weren't for him I'd probably get rid of my apartment and live nowhere, and he's right.

Most of the time we've been living in England and now we've bought an apartment in New York which we absolutely love.

What is found now is found then. If you find nothing now, you will simply end up with an apartment in the City of Death.

Someone skipped on the rent and they left behind a huge upright piano, which got moved into our apartment so the other apartment could get rented out. I took to it and started playing.

When I got divorced and moved into an apartment, I started keeping the TV on, just for company.

The good thing about being in someone else's apartment is it's so much easier to leave than it is to get someone out.

What impressed me most about New York were its huge apartment houses.

You rented the apartment with a dead guy in the corner?” I shrugged. “I wanted the apartment, and I figured I could cover him up with a bookcase or something.

When you're on the road for six months of the year and you're paying New York prices and not even living in your apartment, it just didn't make any sense. So I had to get out of there.

A bachelor, a studio, those were the names for that kind of apartment. Separate entrance it would say in the ads, and that meant you could have sex, unobserved.

I could hear the echo of chants bursting through the apartment walls depicting the loser that had come to be and reside within them.

As an artist suffering from insomnia and working from my apartment, I had an artistic freedom to explore and create awesome stuff. I wore a robe and slippers as my work dress code. These are the days when creativity is my best imaginary friend. And I was crazy enough to create what people would call masterpieces.

If you walk into a woman's apartment and nothing's out of place, you know she's not going to want to stay in bed all day and order in Chinese food and eat it in bed. She's going to make you get up and eat toast at the kitchen table.

I'm like my cat. I run around in circles in my apartment, because the big bad outside is just too big. And scary. And outside. How do stray cats deal with all the stress of having no protection from all the air that’s going on around there, without anyone to guide and control it into timidity?

I'm supposed to feel like it’s such a great apartment, but I don’t. It’s the right price, there are no bugs and it’s got a great view, but it’s the lair of Satan...

I’m supposed to feel like it’s such a great apartment, but I don’t. It’s the right price, there are no bugs and it’s got a great view, but it’s the lair of Satan...--Nil Caveat

I saw the apartment almost as a sanatorium, a hospice clinic for my own recovery. I painted the walls in the warmest colors I could find and bought myself flowers every week, as if I were visiting myself in the hospital.

It's a cute little studio apartment that has just what I need: a bed, a couch, a table, a chair, and a coffee-maker.

Minimalism is a way of living at the maximum of your potential.

I mean, there’s no sun and no hot guys. What is this awful place, Calvin?” “It’s my apartment.

She loved old things. The brown-brick place was a survivor of the 1907 earthquake and fire, and proudly bore a plaque from the historical society. The building had a haunted history- it was the site of a crime of passion- but Tess didn't mind. She'd never been superstitious. The apartment was filled with items she'd collected through the years, simply because she liked them or was intrigued by them. There was a balance between heirloom and kitsch. The common thread seemed to be that each object had a story, like a pottery jug with a bas-relief love story told in pictures, in which she'd found a note reading, "Long may we run. -Gilbert." Or the antique clock on the living room wall, each of its carved figures modeled after one of the clockmaker's twelve children. She favored the unusual, so long as it appeared to have been treasured by someone, once upon a time. Her mail spilled from an antique box containing a pigeon-racing counter with a brass plate engraved from a father to a son. She hung her huge handbag on a wrought iron finial from a town library that had burned and been rebuilt in a matter of weeks by an entire community. Other people's treasures captivated her. They always had, steeped in hidden history, bearing the nicks and gouges and fingerprints of previous owners. She'd probably developed the affinity from spending so much of her childhood in her grandmother's antique shop.

So I am not a broken heart. I am not the weight I lost or miles or ran and I am not the way I slept on my doorstep under the bare sky in smell of tears and whiskey because my apartment was empty and if I were to be this empty I wanted something solid to sleep on. Like concrete. I am not this year and I am not your fault. I am muscles building cells, a little every day, because they broke that day, but bones are stronger once they heal and I am smiling to the bus driver and replacing my groceries once a week and I am not sitting for hours in the shower anymore. I am the way a life unfolds and bloom and seasons come and go and I am the way the spring always finds a way to turn even the coldest winter into a field of green and flowers and new life. I am not your fault.

So rich a client having suffered such a messy death was an unsettling embarrassment to Captain Harald Biscay. It was bad for business. He had the murder hushed up immediately, his security staff investigating the matter covertly but thoroughly. Five and a half thousand souls onboard. Five and a half thousand suspects. Three days. So far, nothing. Now it would be taken further by the planetary authorities on the colony world below. A forensic team (cunningly disguised as a cleaning crew) was now rummaging through Smiffs apartment, examining every single particle. He had a feeling -- a strong feeling, about what they were going to find. Somehow, Biscay was of the opinion that this was going to be another contender for the Unsolved Murders show.