#london

Fancy your having no sunshine in London yesterday! Here it was glorious, like full summer, and I sat up with the window wide open, listening to the discourse of two amorous thrushes. ↗

— Marie Corelli

#discourse #fancy #full #glorious #having

I was a sort of rock journalist - whatever that is - in London in the late '60s. ↗

— Jonathan Demme

#journalist #late #london #rock #sort

I don't get to go home as much as I used to, which is a shame. But I don't mind because my mum moved over to London to look after me. I rented her a house just around the corner. ↗

— Niall Horan

#around #because #corner #get #go

I became the toast of London. A lot of people I met came from these really decadent families where the married men were gay and no one thought anything about it. ↗

— Robert Mapplethorpe

#anything #became #came #decadent #families

The city of London, within the walls, occupies a space of only 370 acres, and is but the hundred and fortieth part of the extent covered by the whole metropolis. ↗

— Henry Mayhew

#city #covered #extent #fortieth #hundred

I'm based in London now. I'm renting an apartment, making my own little home. It's great because I am around people all the time and I need my own space to get away from it all. ↗

— Samantha Mumba

#apartment #around #away #based #because

I was born in London, England, in 1938, a few months before the war, and spent the first years of my life there, although I was evacuated a couple of times for short periods. My schooling was very interrupted, both by frequent moves and by ill health. ↗

— Anne Perry

#before #born #both #couple #england

The only problem in the past has been my kids. I'd want to bring them to London with me, but they are at an important stage in high school. ↗

— Mimi Rogers

#bring #high #high school #i #important

Behind every door in London there are stories, behind every one ghosts. The greatest writers in the history of the written word have given them substance, given them life. And so we readers walk, and dream, and imagine, in the city where imagination found its great home. ↗

— Anna Quindlen

#fictional-london #imagination #life #literary-london #literature

One feels even in the midst of the traffic, or waking at night, Clarissa was positive, a particular hush, or solemnity; an indescribable pause; a suspense before Big Ben strikes. There! Out it boomed. First a warning, musical; then the hour, irrevocable. The leaden circles dissolved in the air. Such fools we are, she thought, crossing Victoria Street. For Heaven only knows why one loves it so, how one sees it so, making it up, building it round one, tumbling it, creating it every moment afresh; but the veriest frumps, the most dejected of miseries sitting on doorsteps (drink their downfall) do the same; can't be dealt with, she felt positive, by Acts of Parliament for that very reason: they love life. In people's eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment in June. ↗

— Virginia Woolf

#life