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New Yorker Quotes

Browse 26 quotes about New Yorker.

New Yorker Quotes

“The salesman told Anna that it was pointless to try to rip off his customers, because of everything a Sichuanese person must have gone through in order to accumulate enough money for a Porsche. “The people who are capable of buying luxury cars have exhausted every means to earn profits and they have coped with all kinds of people,” he said. “It’s impossible to deceive them.”

“Surely the Board knows what democracy is. It is the line that forms on the right. It is the don’t in Don’t Shove. It is the hole in the stuffed shirt through which the sawdust slowly trickles; it is the dent in the high hat. Democracy is the recurrent suspicion that more than half the people are right more than half the time. It is the feeling of privacy in the voting booths, the feeling of communion in the libraries, the feeling of vitality everywhere. Democracy is the score at the beginning of the ninth. It is an idea which hasn’t been disproved yet, a song the words of which have not gone bad. It’s the mustard on the hot dog and the cream in the rationed coffee. Democracy is a request from a War Board, in the middle of a morning in the middle of a war, wanting to know what democracy is.”

“I believe that books, once they are written, have no need of their authors. If they have something to say, they will sooner or later find readers; if not, they won’t. . . . I very much love those mysterious volumes, both ancient and modern, that have no definite author but have had and continue to have an intense life of their own. They seem to me a sort of nighttime miracle, like the gifts of the Befana, which I waited for as a child. . . . True miracles are the ones whose makers will never be known. . . . Besides, isn’t it true that promotion is expensive? I will be the least expensive author of the publishing house. I’ll spare you even my presence.”

“Our grief is not a cry for war. "That's how New Yorkers feel," the driver said. "They know what bombing looks like, and they know the hell it is. But outside New York, people will feel guilty because they weren't here. They'll be yelling for revenge out of guilt and ignorance. Sure, we all want to catch the criminals, but only people who weren't in New York will want to bomb another country and repeat what happened here.”

“Susan was a tough-minded romantic. She wanted to fall in love with a book. She always had reasons for her devotions, as an astute reader would, but she was, to her credit, probably the most emotional one among us. Susan could fall in love with a book in more or less the way one falls in love with a person. Yes, you can provide, if asked, a list of your loved one’s lovable qualities: he’s kind and funny and smart and generous and he knows the names of trees. But he’s also more than amalgamation of qualities. You love him, the entirety of him, which can’t be wholly explained by even the most exhaustive explication of his virtues. And you love him no less for his failings. O.K., he’s bad with money, he can be moody sometimes, and he snores. His marvels so outshine the little complaints as to render them ridiculous.”

“The Wikipedic superficiality and political frivolity with which these grand historical and psychological themes are applied to the gory drama are matched by the appropriation of a few jingling baubles of feminist dialogue meant to get viewers hungry for “substance” to salivate. They’re the product and the fruit of lazy filmmaking. The movie has nothing to say about women’s history, feminist politics, civil violence, the Holocaust, the Cold War, or German culture. Instead, Guadagnino thrusts some thusly labelled trinkets at viewers and suggests that they try to assemble them. The result is sordid, flimsy Holocaust kitsch, fanatical chic, with all the actual political substance of a designer Che T-shirt. When a few riffs of dialogue, midway through the film, speak of a character’s fate in Theresienstadt, one wants to tell the script to get that word out of its mouth.”

“আরম্ভের গান হ্যাঁ তোমাকে অনুমতি দেয়া হল তুমি যাও হ্যাঁ তুমি জ্যোতির্ময় গরিমা দেয়া হল হলে অকাট্য তুমি যেমন তুমি তেমন দাঁড়িয়ে তোমার মতন হাঁটো হ্যাঁ তোমাকে ক্ষমা করা হল তোমাকে ভালোবাসা হল আর আলিঙ্গন করা হল হ্যাঁ তোমাকে বলে হবে অসাধারণ যেমন ভাবে দাঁড়িয়ে থাকবে আর সহজ ভাবে বসে থাকবে হ্যাঁ তুমি আরম্ভ করো এইভাবে একটা ছোটো পদক্ষেপ এই পদক্ষেপ দোনামনা বিস্ময়কর যেমন পর্ণ ফার্ন গাছের বাতাসে তারপর কোমল আগাছা আরেক পদক্ষেপ যতোক্ষণ না শ্যাওলা আর তারপর হ্যাঁ তুমি ওখানে বৃষ্টিতে দৌড়োচ্ছো আলোর হাওয়া পাতাগুলো সবই মুখগুলো শেষ পর্যন্ত বন্ধুদের ও হ্যাঁ হ্যাঁ তোমায় দেখতে এতো সুন্দর যে তুমি হাঁটছো যেমন দৌড়োও ওড়ো ভেতরে আসো না বাতাস পাতাগুলো জ্যোতির্ময় সূর্য আর তোমার মুখ ও শোনো সবই হ্যাঁ শেষ পর্যন্ত”

“New York might run on Dow Jones, lattes, dollar signs, and neon lies, but what beats in its breast is it’s people: it’s hip-hop, it’s bodegas, it’s art, it’s Union Square grifters, it’s subway mariachi, it’s two-jobs-and-night-school-thank-you-I’m-fine mothers, it’s daughters full of dreams of making it big, it’s multicolored sons and their hopes blazing bright as a meth tweaker’s eyes.”

“Trump unfurled a giant banner high on the side of his building, directly facing the rival building. "Your views aren't so great, are they? We have the real Central Park views and address. Best Wishes, The Donald." For perhaps the first and only time, the New Yorker printed the words: "Trump has a point.”