The true New Yorker secretly believes that people living anywhere else have to be, in some sense, kidding.
New York is not a city, but a world.
There is no place like it, no place with an atom of its glory, pride, and exultancy.
New York has a trip-hammer vitality which drives you insane with restlessness if you have no inner stabilizer.
New York is made up of millions of different people, and they all come here looking for something.
New York had all the iridescence of the beginning of the world.
New York is the only city in the world where you can get deliberately run down on the sidewalk by a pedestrian.
One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years.
I believe in New Yorkers. Whether they've ever questioned the dream in which they live, I wouldn't know, because I won't ever dare ask that question.
New York is not just a tan that you'll never lose, a summer love you'll never forget. It's a way of life.
Give me such shows—give me the streets of Manhattan!
New York is an attitude, a personality, and a statement in itself.