In our town, the most popular way out was joining the service. So my three best friends joined the Navy to get out. I didn't.
I came from a town of maybe 30,000 people.
There are some people who are very powerful who I will never name, because I want to be able to work in this town.
Oh, sheez, what’s Syd Vicious doing back in town? (Payne) How’d the testicle retrieval go, Payne? You still limping?. . . Thought so. I got the thank-you card from Planned Parenthood last week. Seems they want to honor me for saving the gene pool. (Syd)
What was said about all of us? We're stupid. You'll never work in a town again. How do you look your four children in the eye? You've sold your soul. You know, it went on and on.
Being blunt with your feelings is very American. In this big country, I can be as brash as New York, as hedonistic as Los Angeles, as sensuous as San Francisco, as brainy as Boston, as proper as Philadelphia, as brawny as Chicago, as warm as Palm Springs, as friendly as my adopted home town of Dallas, Fort Worth, and as peaceful as the inland waterway that rubs up against my former home in Virginia Beach.
Oooh, fashion, we are the goon squad and were coming to town, beep beep.
The more destruction there is everywhere, the more it shows the activity of town authorities.
I have friends who have no choice; they came from whatever town, they didn't have anybody in entertainment and they just knew they wanted to act and they did it.
Page, Arizona, Shithead Capital of Coconino County: any town with thirteen churches and only four bars has got an incipient social problem. That town is looking for trouble.
If these town gods can't detect the thieves who steal from their own temples, it's hardly likely they'll tell me who stole my spade.
. . . we weren't very professional; she could have gone to almost any town and put together a smoother ensemble, but we were pioneers, and professional musicians probably wouldn't have come up with what we did. . . professional musicians probably wouldn't have given Janis Joplin the space to be herself, which was probably our greatest gift to her
I'm from Middlesboro, Ky. , a little town on the Tennessee and Virginia border.
I am a little man and this is a little town, but there must be a spark in little men that can burst into flame.
Ask yourself whether our language is complete--whether it was so before the symbolism of chemistry and the notation of the infinitesimal calculus were incorporated in it; for these are, so to speak, suburbs of our language. (And how many houses or streets does it take before a town begins to be a town?) Our language can be seen as an ancient city: a maze of little streets and squares, of old and new houses, and of houses with additions from various periods; and this surrounded by a multitude of new boroughs with straight regular streets and uniform houses.
I do like men and I had, you know, a guy in high school that I wanted to marry desperately. He's the mayor of some small town in Texas. I could be the mayor's wife right now.
It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobbledstreets silent and the hunched courters'-and-rabbits' wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboat-bobbing sea.
He put on his hat and wrapped his scarf around his jaw, but did without the wig and the sunglasses. He clicked his key chain and the car beeped and the doors locked. "That's it?" He looked up. "Sorry?" "Aren't you afraid it might get stolen? We're not exactly in a good part of town. " "It's got a car alarm. " "Don't you, like, cast a spell or something? To keep it safe?" "No. It's a pretty good car alarm.
[In 1951] we were also told that the Russians could be parachuting from planes over our town at any time. These were the same Russians that my uncles had fought alongside only a few years earlier. Now they had become monsters who were coming to slit our throats and incinerate us. It seemed peculiar. Living under a cloud of fear like this robs a child of his spirit. It's one thing to be afraid when someone's holding a shotgun on you, but it's another thing to be afraid of something that's just not quite real.
In my time, the follies of the town crept slowly among us, but now they travel faster than a stagecoach.