One time, I threw a candy wrapper on the street. I was with a friend who said to me, You just littered on the street! Don’t you care about the environment? And I thought about it, and I said, You know what? This isn’t the environment. This is New York City. New York City is not the environment. New York City is a giant piece of litter. Next to Mexico City, it’s the shittiest piece of litter in the world. Just a pussy, runny, smokin’, stinkin’ piece of litter.

I sell mirrors in the city of the blind.

I had a good mind to discontinue permanently the supply of grain to the city, reliance on which had discouraged Italian agriculture, but refrained because some politician would be bound one day to revive the dole as a means of ingratiating himself with the people.

A just city should favor justice and the just, hate tyranny and injustice, and give them both their just deserts.

It’s a shame about California, and particularly about L.A., where they’ve demolished so many landmarks. It’s a bit of a disease there, where if anything is over 30 years old, they sort of knock it down and replace it. It’s a strange town, it’s this sprawling suburb, and then there’s a city, the old town.

Noise is manufactured in the city, just as goods are manufactured. The city is the place where noise is kept in stock, completely detached from the object from which it came.