There's no such thing as good news in America.
I'm from the dirty depths of New Jersey.
Read my lips: no new taxes.
New York: A third-rate Babylon.
I'm a New York businessman.
There is nothing new under the sun.
New Yorkers are either the nicest or the rudest.
I grew up, a kid in New Jersey.
New York is in my DNA.
Bill: This is a night for Americans!
Assassin: For the blood of the Irish!
I'm very interested in science fiction, and I like new things. I've never been a really sentimental person.
There's so much music going on in New Orleans.
I'm always looking to create new avenues or new visions of music.
New York has always embraced me.
After all, we are all immigrants to the future; none of us is a native in that land. Margaret Mead famously wrote about the profound changes wrought by the Second World War, “All of us who grew up before the war are immigrants in time, immigrants f...
I know when people think of New York, they think of theater, restaurants, cultural landmarks and shopping,” I told him. “But beyond the iconic skyline and the news from Wall Street, New York is a collection of villages. In our neighborhoods, we a...
Neal: Sir?... Sir?... Sir? [runs to man] Neal: Excuse me. I know this is your cab, but I'm desperately late for a plane, and I was wondering if I could appeal to your good nature and ask you to let me have it. New York Lawyer: I don't have a good nat...
Many modern Christians think of the New Testament as a book outside of history, something that was just suddenly there. Historians of Christianity, able to trace its gradual authorship and formation, nonetheless typically find themselves describing t...
Nobody can understand the greatness of the thirteenth century, who does not realize that it was a great growth of new things produced by a living thing. In that sense it was really bolder and freer than what we call the renaissance, which was a resur...
Life is amazingly simplified,” she wrote in her journal, “now that the recalcitrant forsythia has at last decided to come and blurt out springtime in petalled fountains of yellow. In spite of reams of papers to be written, life has snitched a coc...
