Best 341 quotes in «boston quotes» category

When one wants to become cognizant of the color and the texture of the soil, one does not get a ladder; one gets a shovel. When one wants to get into touch with the texture of the universal mind, one does not go to Boston; one goes to the Bowery.

When someone asks about Boston, I put my brain on pause. I feel like I took a 5,000 pounds off my back to be here.

When you think about Boston, Harvard and M.I.T. are the brains of the city, and its soul might be Faneuil Hall or the State House or the Old Church. But I think the pulsing, pounding heart of Boston is Fenway Park.

When you went into a Boston Chicken and ordered quarter-chicken, white, with mash and corn, when that was rung up, that would signal all the way along the supply chain the need for more potatoes to be put on a truck a thousand miles away.

You don’t get black power by chanting it. You get it by doing what the other groups have done. The Irish kept quiet. They didn’t shout “Irish Power”, “Jew Power”, [or] “Italian Power”. They kept their mouths shut and took over the police department of New York City, and the mayorship of Boston.

You know, Boston people are full of sauce.

You have in Vegas the most heterogeneous audience you're gonna get anywhere in the country. In Boston, Chicago, Miami, you know who goes to the theater. In Vegas, you have people who only see one theater show a year, and it's in Vegas.

..Abigail's singing while I painted. How we laughed so when no one was watching. And how finding a black-eyed Susan tucked into my business contracts reminded me of why I was doing that business in the first place. To really care for another is a reason to live.

Anyone who lives in Boston knows that it’s March that’s the cruelest, holding out a few days of false hope and then gleefully hitting you with the shit.

You must not count much upon what I can do or learn in New York.... Everything there disappoints me but the crowd; rather, I was disappointed with the rest before I came. I have no eyes for their churches, and what else they find to brag of. Though I know but little about Boston, yet what attracts me, in a quiet way, seems much meaner and more pretending than there,--libraries, pictures, and faces in the street. You don't know where any respectability inhabits.

At least when I get on the Boston train I have a good chance of landing in the South Station And not in that part of the daily press which is reserved for victims of aviation.

Caine Carraway im Anzug war ein Anblick für die Götter. Cain Carraway ohne Anzug war heiß wie die Sünde.

...if you come across someone sad and you do not try to make them smile, then you have disgraced your own humanity.

Chinese food in Texas is the best Chinese food in the United States except Boston.

Du darfst deinen Boss nicht gleich am ersten Tag umbringen. Du darfst deinen Boss nicht gleich am ersten Tag umbringen. Du darfst deinen Boss nicht umbringen, Punkt.

[Enoch Root] hadn't really known what to expect of America. But people here seem to do things—hangings included—with a blunt, blank efficiency that's admirable and disappointing at the same time. Like jumping fish, they go about difficult matters with bloodless ease. As if they were all born knowing things that other people must absorb, along with faery-tales and superstitions, from their families and villages. Maybe it is because most of them came over on ships. (Boston Common, October 12, 1713, 10:33:52 a.m.)

God made women too beautiful and their memories too long.

His ability to evoke Celtic pride was incredible. He would always talk about how all the old players called him up after an embarrasing performance and wanted to disassociate themselves from the Celtics. They wanted to mail in their championship rings, wanted their numbers removed from the rafters, and by this point there would be tears rolling down our cheeks and we'd want to kill.

I didn't mean to upset you, Ms. Hamilton," his gaze shifted back to her. "It's a beautiful sight and I thought you'd like to see it." She gasped in delight at the vista before her. Distant purple mountains framed lush green meadows speckled with brown dots of cattle. A silver river threaded through clumps of trees. In the middle of the valley, ranch buildings clustered around a large white house. Elizabeth inhaled crisp air into her lungs...

If you haven't met Kenny (Young) you have not seen how the spirit of Boston can be embodied by one single man.

I guess no true Bostonian would trust a place that was sunny and pleasant all the time. But a gritty, perpetually cold and gloomy neighborhood? Throw in a couple of Dunkin’ Donuts locations, and I’m right at home.

You know, I'm from Boston, and in Boston, you are born with a baseball bat in your hand.

Endlich nahm er meine kleine Hand in seine große. Die Haut seiner Handflächen war leicht rau, und die Reibung sandte Funken durch meinen Arm. All meine Muskeln, selbst die in meinen Fingern, zogen sich vor Verlangen zusammen.

the gorgeous blonde with long legs and a body like a Playboy pin-up" Carla Ferrari, P.I.

I had loved Portland. It was a clean city, with weather so delicate that at night you had to look at the streetlights to tell whether it was raining or snowing. Everything was heavier near Boston: air, accents, women.

Schließlich sagte ich leise: "Wie kommt's, dass du so weise bist, Effie?" "Ich habe es siebenundsiebzig Jahre auf diesem Planeten ausgehalten", antwortete sie trocken. "Und indem ich die richtigen Entscheidungen getroffen habe, habe ich die meisten dieser Jahre sogar gelebt.

Springtime in Massachusetts is depressing for those who embrace a progressive view of history and experience. It does not gradually develop as spring is supposed to. Instead, the crocuses bloom and the grass grows, but the foliage is independent from the weather, which gets colder and colder and sadder and sadder until June when one day it becomes brutishly hot without warning...It was fitting, then, that the first people who chose to settle there were mentally suspect.

The sky is the most glorious blue I've ever seen." Nick must have heard her quiet words. "I used to think there couldn't be a more beautiful blue in all the world." The sound of his voice pulled Elizabeth into his presence. She said with a curious glance. "What changed your mind?" He flushed though his green gaze remained steady on her, "I saw your eyes.

In crew, contempt is important. In Boston, Boston University and Northeastern crew are treated with contempt by the college up the river. Intramural crew is treated with contempt. Nonathletic coxswains (Chinese engineering majors, poets) are treated with contempt. A true coxswain is a diminutive jock, raging against the pint size that made him the butt of so many jokes at Prep school. He runs twenty stadiums a day, his girlfriend is six feet one, and he can scream orders even when he has the flu (which he catches at least three times a winter).

Lucas - You'll have to excuse Paige's overenthusiastic attempt to befriend the local wildlife. Not many of their type where she comes from. Paige -Hey, we have gangs in Boston. Lucas - Ah, yes. I believe they're particularly bad down by the wharf, where they're liable to descend upon the unwary, surround him with their yachts, and shout well-chosen and elegantly elocuted epithets.

Sie kannst du vielleicht täuschen, aber mich nicht." Er sah mich von der Seite an. Offenbar hatte er meine schlechte Laune bemerkt. "Tatsächlich?", murmelte er. "Mmmhmm. Sie tuscheln alle hinter deinem Rücken, wie gefährlich du bist und wie skrupellos und aufregend. Sie kichern wie dummer Hühner. Aber ich weiß etwas, was sie nicht wissen." Jetzt wandte Cain sich vollständig zu mir um. "Und das wäre?", frage er herausfordernd. Traurigkeit ergriff mein Herz wie eine eiserne Hand. "Du wirkst gefährlich, weil du gefährlich bist. Du bewegst dich wie ein griesgrämiger Tiger, und alle anderen sind für dich bloß Beute zwischen deinen Pranken. Sie sind so sehr damit beschäftigt, dich anzuhimmeln und darüber ui reden, wie umwerfend du doch aussiehst, dass sie gar nicht merken, dass sie gleich von dir gefressen werden. Dass du sie kaust und dann ausspuckst.

The Housefly I’m just a little pesky thing, Flying to eke out a living. So round and round and round I hiss, And fill the air with busy bliss. Of hand and swatter steering clear, I venture to light on crumbs and beer. In salad days I was a Grecian king. War and famine make me sing. How much they’d like to whack me flat, With a newspaper or even a baseball bat. Splat!

We'll ride along the river. It's a mighty pretty sight..." Puffy white clouds floated across the azure blue sky. Pine-covered mountains crowned with snowcaps folded down into foothills that ringed the valley. Beneath the clouds the play of sun and shadow cast hazy blue-green patches on the mountainsides. A distant large-winged bird rode on air currents before diving into a clump of trees.

What do you men wear (to swim)?" Laughter glinted in his green eyes and he slanted her a mischievous grin. "Since Mrs. Carter came here to live, we swim in old pants cut off at the knees." Warmth crept up her cheeks. Bad enough to think of a bare-chested Nick swimming in the pool without thinking of him naked.

To B-major or B-minor: that is the question. Consider that the major and minor chords are separated by the smallest tonal step which is one half-step carrying in its pitch the gravity of all humanity which needs the major to recognize its relative, inherent tragedy which once given expression seeks the resurrection that only the major can procreate which self-expression gives beauty to the harmony of the major which then confirms the whole truth of the tragic minor saga which overcomes the hidden hand of destiny in the great ellipse of being and the greater cosmic void of nothingness which passage of time has sadly destined to be replayed in the same octave of the ineluctable modality of the audible which ellipse with such a simple twist resonates as infinity which is both meaningless beyond all human capacity for understanding but which holds within it the ubiquitous mystic beauty and truth of the pulsing human heart.

When Benjamin Franklin invented the lightning-rod, the clergy, both in England and America, with the enthusiastic support of George III, condemned it as an impious attempt to defeat the will of God. For, as all right-thinking people were aware, lightning is sent by God to punish impiety or some other grave sin—the virtuous are never struck by lightning. Therefore if God wants to strike any one, Benjamin Franklin [and his lightning-rod] ought not to defeat His design; indeed, to do so is helping criminals to escape. But God was equal to the occasion, if we are to believe the eminent Dr. Price, one of the leading divines of Boston. Lightning having been rendered ineffectual by the 'iron points invented by the sagacious Dr. Franklin,' Massachusetts was shaken by earthquakes, which Dr. Price perceived to be due to God's wrath at the 'iron points.' In a sermon on the subject he said, 'In Boston are more erected than elsewhere in New England, and Boston seems to be more dreadfully shaken. Oh! there is no getting out of the mighty hand of God.' Apparently, however, Providence gave up all hope of curing Boston of its wickedness, for, though lightning-rods became more and more common, earthquakes in Massachusetts have remained rare.

When a child disappears, the space she’d occupied is immediately filled with dozens of people. And these people—relatives, friends, police officers, reporters from both TV and print—create a lot of energy and noise, a sense of communal intensity, of fierce and shared dedication to a task. “But amid all that noise, nothing is louder than the silence of the missing child. It’s a silence that’s two and a half to three feet tall, and you feel it at your hip and hear it rising up from the floorboards, shouting to you from corners and crevices and the emotionless face of a doll left on the floor by the bed. “It’s a silence that’s different from the one left at funerals and wakes. The silence of the dead carries with it a sense of finality; it’s a silence you know you must get used to. But the silence of a missing child is not something you want to get used to; you refuse to accept it, and so it screams at you. “The silence of the dead says, Goodbye. “The silence of the missing says, Find me.

When change cometh, she will bring peace at her back. She will not bend to your will; you must bend to heres.

When change cometh, she will bring peace at her back. She will not bend to your will; you must bend to hers.

Who could better motivate Bill Russell than Bill Russell?

Today I prayed for Boston, for America, my home away from home. Today, I realized how lucky we Sri Lankans are to have peace in our country. How I feel today, hearing of the bombs going off in the city brings back memories of how I used to feel four years ago in Sri Lanka when the LTTE was setting off bombs all around Colombo. That feeling I used to get when I hear about a bomb blast, the goosebumps, the school evacuation drills, the breaking news footage, and most of all, that fear we Sri Lankans used to feel, every second of everyday, it all came back to me today. Thank you God for bringing peace to my country, look after America the way you did Sri Lanka.

1967 race in Boston changed not just my life, but millions of women's lives. There are also things that, when you get older, resonate more.

2004 was a great year for Boston! The Patriots won the Super Bowl! Boston hosted its first national political convention! And - the Red Sox won the World Series!

A Boston man is the east wind made flesh.

About 25 years ago, I started out as a reporter covering politics. And that sort of just evolved into organized crime, because organized crime and politics were the same thing in Boston.

A few years ago no hotel or restaurant in Boston refused Negro guests; now several hotels, restaurants, and especially confectionary stores, will not serve Negroes, even the best of them.

A friend who used to be my customer told me one day: "I promise I am going to help you to be relocated." He's a realtor and after he bought two buildings in the business district in Boston, he said: "Are you ready for your next place?" I could not believe it.

A hundred thousand men were led By one calf near three centuries dead; They followed still his crooked way And lost a hundred years a day; For thus such reverence is lent To well established precedent.

A man builds a house in England with the expectation of living in it and leaving it to his children; while we shed our houses in America as easily as a snail does his shell. We live a while in Boston, and then a while in New York, and then, perhaps, turn up at Cincinnati. Scarcely any body with us is living where they expect to live and die. The man that dies in the house he was born in is a wonder. There is something pleasant in the permanence and repose of the English family estate, which we, in America, know very little of.

Americans are much more American than they are Northerners, Southerners, Westerners, or Easterners ... California Chinese, Boston Irish, Wisconsin German, yes, Alabama Negroes, have more in common than they have apart ... The American identity is an exact and provable thing.