The life of the city never lets you go, nor do you ever want it to.

Divine nature gave the fields; human art built the cities.

One need merely visit the marketplace and the graveyard to determine whether a city is in both physical and metaphysical order.

A large city cannot be experientially known; its life is too manifold for any individual to be able to participate in it.

Does anybody really want to attend to cities other than to flee, fleece, privatize, butcher, or decimate them?

We must consider that we shall be a city upon a hill. The eyes of all people are upon us, so that if we deal falsely with our God in this work we have undertaken, and so cause Him to withdraw His present help from us, we shall be made a story and a byword through the world.

A hick town is one where there is no place to go where you shouldn’t go.

The screech and mechanical uproar of the big city turns the citified heads, fills citified ears—as the song of birds, wind in the trees, animal cries, or as the voices and songs of his loved ones once filled his heart. He is sidewalk happy.

The seeds of civilization are in every culture, but it is city life that brings them to fruition.

Any city, however small, is in fact divided into two, one the city of the poor, the other of the rich; these are at war with one another.

There is a city in which you find everything you desire—handsome people, pleasures, ornaments of every kind—all that the natural person craves. However, you cannot find a single wise person there.

Do you suppose that will change the sense of the morals, the fact that we can’t use morals as a means of judging the city because we couldn’t stand it? And that we’re changing our whole moral system to suit the fact that we’re living in a ridiculous way?

If the present be compared with the remote past, it is easily seen that in all cities and in all peoples there are the same desires and the same passions as there always were.