Best 60 quotes in «amsterdam quotes» category

My experience in Amsterdam is that cyclists ride where the hell they like and aim in a state of rage at all pedestrians while ringing their bell loudly, the concept of avoiding people being foreign to them.

I was in George Martin's studio in Amsterdam and he was telling me, 'They come in here and it takes them three days to do a bass line.' Well I'm not from that era.

Location: Amsterdam, Where Fire Is Called "Vlam

So how’s it going?” “Okay. Glad to be home, I guess. Gus told me you were in the ICU?” “Yeah,” I said. “Sucks,” he said. “I’m a lot better now,” I said. “I’m going to Amsterdam tomorrow with Gus.” “I know. I’m pretty well up-to-date on your life, because Gus never. Talks. About. Anything. Else.

The Annex is an ideal place to hide in. It may be damp and lopsided, but there's probably not a more comfortable hiding place in all of Amsterdam. No, in all of Holland.

We're going on a, um, windmill tour later this week." If I'd wanted to shut them all up, I'd definitely succeeded. They all looked stunned. Adrian spoke first. "I'm going to assume that means he's flying you to Amsterdam on his private jet. If so, I'd like to come along. But not for the windmills.

There are so many international musical connections here, in Amsterdam. And some of them are amazingly successful.

When the Internet arrived in Ireland... it was like having Amsterdam's Red Light District in your own living room.

After every shirt she looks at me and smiles, letting go of air she no longer needs. She laughs after the sweater, knowing I’m gonna tell her it’s too hot for it, knowing she’ll say it’s for the plane and ask “what if the room gets cold?

We are men on a budget. I mean, why go all the way to Amsterdam when you can just go to Harry Hines?

And that's how we got arrested at the Stinkerlaas parade'.

All we can do if we're lucky is stich up the mistakes other people make.

Because, Petronella - it's something in his soul. It's something in his soul and you can't get it out.

By seeing how small the world is, I realize how capable I am. I can conquer anything. Anywhere. Anyone.

Believe it or don't believe it, Madame. But my feet are tired too. Bloody tired. Like a dead man's.

Hij genoot van de verschillende afvalcontainers die overal stonden, van de ingeblikte groenten in de ziekenhuiskoele winkels – supermarkten werden ze genoemd –, hij genoot van de trams en hun heupdans die de passagiers heen en weer schudde wanneer zij klingelend een bocht maakten, hij genoot van de bomen die overal voor schaduw zorgden, compleet met een kroost van groene houten banken en een vuilnisbak, hij genoot van de grachten, die rimpelend een wiegenlied voor hem zongen, hij genoot van de vooroverhellende en schuine grachtenpanden, hij genoot van de standbeelden bedekt met patina en duivenuitwerpselen, hij genoot van het bruisen van zo veel mensenlevens, hij genoot van de pleinen en de onberispelijke kantoorgebouwen met ramen waarin het universum weerkaatste, van de vele straatbelichting, de neonreclames – de stad was 's nachts een ware boomgaard van kleurig neon –, hij genoot van de markten waar het rook naar gezouten vis, gebrande noten en kaas, van de vele eethuizen die met de mensen mee waren geëmigreerd, hij genoot van de fietsers die elke verkeersregel overtraden, hij genoot van het stille lawaai en de zinderende sensualiteit die de meisjes uitwasemden en van verliefde stellen die hun liefde op straat uitstalden voor voorbijgangers, hij genoot van het wolkenheer, van de regens en de buien, van de natte zonnen op regendagen als beslagen brillenglazen, van de regenplassen en hun weerspiegelingen, hij genoot van de chaos, van de beierd ver weg tussen het hooi van zijn doofheid, hij genoot van de duiven, van de zwervers met hun winkelwagentjes vol onbegrijpelijke huisraad, van de drankschuiten die over de effen straten kapseisden, zijwaarts hellend door een overbelaste lever, hij genoot van de sissende venters van genotsmiddelen, hij genoot van de drukke winkelstraten waar alles wat men nodig had te koop was en alles wat men niet nodig had, hij genoot van de rosse buurten en de uitstalling van vrouwelijk vlees, dat niet aan duitloze hem besteed was, van de vele kroegen en bars waarin klanten dronken en kwetterden en zich ontlastten zoals de vogels in de johannesbroodboom van Cheira en Heira, hij genoot van de welvaart die de mensen zichtbaar goeddeed, vooral de vrouwen met hun papieren tassen vol nieuwe aankopen in de weekeinden en hun ontspannen roddels en koetjes en kalfjes op terrassen, op vensterbanken achter de geraniums, hij genoot van de broeders die steeds in aantal toenamen en hem eerbiedig bejegenden wanneer hij hun bedwelmende koopwaar weigerde, met eerbied want hij was een van hem en het deed hem goed om te zien dat ze hoe dan ook werk hadden gevonden, hij genoot van de levendige rusteloosheid van dit alles, van de Amstel die voor verfrissing zorgde en het land bevloeide en het meest genoot hij van de ultieme wonderen in het park, dat hij nu betrad.

Here people cycled with a reckless swagger, talking on the phone and eating breakfast.

I feel younger than eighteen but burdened as a eighty-year-old.

From little seeds great flowers grow.

If he really wanted to be happy in the world, Horst? To have any kind of joyful or happy life? He should pay twenty grand to go back to his rapid detox place and then come here and smoke Buddha Haze and stand in a museum all day long.

Neighbours watching neighbours, twisting ropes to bind us all.

It was in December. I stood in the back of the tram, all the way in the back. It drove through the country and stopped and started again, it took hours, the countryside was endless. And the sky got bluer and bluer and the sun shone until it seemed like flowers would have to start sprouting out of the country bumpkins. And the red roofs in the villages and the black trees and the fields, most of them covered with straw, had it nice and warm, and the dunes sat bareheaded in the sun. And the road lay there, white and smarting, it couldn't bear the sunlight, and the glass panes of the village streetlamp flashed, they had trouble withstanding the glare too. But I got colder and colder. And the tram ran as long as the sun shone. It's a long ride from Hillegom to Leiden and the days are short in December. By the end, a block of ice was standing there on the tram staring into the big stupid cold sun that was flaming red as though the revolution was finally starting, as though offices were being blown up all over Amsterdam, but still it couldn't bring a spark of life back to my cold feet and stiff legs. And it kept getting bigger and colder, the sun, and I got colder and stayed the same size, and the blue sky looked down very disapprovingly: What are you doing on that tram?

Never patronize your readers. That means don't talk down to them.

Pero yo no salvé mi Deseo le dije. Ah dijo. Y luego, después de lo que sentí como una pausa practicada, añadió Pero yo salvé el mío.

It's hard to argue over money when a girl flashes you her pussy.

Love your children, for they are the seeds that will make this city bloom.

Opinions differ on the question of whether a golden age is something you can experience while it's happening or whether it only comes into focus on reflection...no matter how grand and prosperous and momentous the time in which you are living may be, its grandeur is inevitably stained by the incessant drabness of the present.

Prostitution is not exactly a reputable business over there either, even though the girls actually have to pay taxes on their earnings, and submit to regular health check ups. Even the prostitutes have universal healthcare over there. The benefit of legal prostitution is obvious: tax income for the city, healthier girls, and safety. In Amsterdam, each girl has an alarm button next to her bed that she can press if one of her "customers" tries to rape or hurt her. The police will arrive within minutes and protect the girl from harm.

Take care, take care. This city thrives! It's money gives you wings to soar. But it is a yoke on your shoulders and you would do well to take note of the bruise around your neck.

Thank you for letting me hijack your wish', I said. 'Thank you for wearing that dress which is like whoa," he said.

...the curious Dutch classification gedogen, which means 'technically illegal but officially tolerated.

The ink was secret nectar, for Marin isn't married.

There are horizons through the brickwork, you wait and see.

The rules of this house are written in water. I must either sink or swim.

the smell of canals and cigarette smoke, all the people sitting outside the cafés drinking beer, saying their r's and g's in a way I'd never learn. I missed the future. Obviously I knew even before this recurrence that I'd never grow old with Augustus Waters. But thinking about Lidewij and her boyfriend, I felt robbed. I would probably never again see the ocean from thirty thousand feet above, so far up you can't make out the waves or any boats, so that the ocean is a great and endless monolith. I could imagine it. I could remember it. But I couldn't see it again, and it occurred to me that the voracious ambition of humans is never sated by dreams coming true, because there is always the thought that everything might be done better and again. That is probably true even if you live to be ninety.

The turnip cannot thrive in the tulips patch of soil.

We're nothing more than prisoners to your desire.

That may be. But to decide that I was never going to live as a proper woman was not your choice to make.' 'What do you mean a proper woman?' 'A proper woman marries - she has children -' 'Then what does that make me? Am I not a proper woman? Last time I looked I certainly was.

The night darkens, the stars unfriendly, the cold a knife upon her neck - but Nella waits, until she can no longer difference between Johannes and the darkness that carries him away.

There are skeletons in this earth.

The storm broke then with a vivid flash of lightning and a great rumble of thunder which drowned every other sound. The Baron turned up the collar of his Burberry. ‘You go down that side, I’ll search this— we’ll find him, Becky. You’re not afraid of the storm?’ She was terrified, but her terror was quite wiped out by anxiety for Bertie. She shook her head and started off down the deserted street, peering through the pelting rain, searching the canal as well as every doorway and alley.

This city is like no other city in the world. It is brilliant but it is bloated, and I've never called it home

What was once, is no longer.

Words are water in this city. One drop of rumour could drown us.

You are a stone, thrown upon a lake. But the ripples you create will never make you still.

You're always such a disappointment, Augustus. Couldn't you have at least gotten orange tomatoes?

Write whenever you can but choose a subject you know about and will want to work with for a few years or even longer...

...And in freedom, most people find sin.

Amsterdam has more than 150 canals and 1,250 bridges, but it never seems crowded, nor bent and bitter from fleecing the tourist.

I am a village boy, and Amsterdam for me was always the big town.