“Paris is the city in which one loves to live. Sometimes I think this is because it is the only city in the world where you can step out of a railway station – the Gare D’Orsay – and see, simultaneously, the chief enchantments: the Seine with its bridges and bookstalls, the Louvre, Notre Dame, the Tuileries Gardens, the Place de la Concorde, the beginning of the Champs Elysees – nearly everything except the Luxembourg Gardens and the Palais Royal. But what other city offers as much as you leave a train?” ― Margaret Anderson
“That Paris exists and anyone could choose to live anywhere else in the world will always be a mystery to me.” – Marion Cotillard, Midnight in Paris
“There is but one Paris and however hard living may be here, and if it becomes worse and harder even – the French air clears up the brain and does good – a world of good.” – Vincent Van Gogh.
“I don’t get here often enough, that’s the problem. Can you picture how drop dead gorgeous this city is in the rain? Imagine this town in the ’20s. Paris in the ’20s, in the rain. The artists and writers!” – Owen Wilson, Midnight in Paris.
J’aime l’automne, cette triste saison va bien aux souvenirs. Quand les arbres n’ont plus de feuilles, quand le ciel conserve encore au crépuscule la teinte rousse qui dore l’herbe fanée, il est doux de regarder s’éteindre tout ce qui naguère brûlait encore en vous.
– Novembre, Gustave Flaubert
Je jouis infiniment Je la beauté douce et tranquille de cette fin d’été, de ce début d’automne. Il y a, en cette saison, un parfum de mélancolie émouvante, suave, dont je me sens profondément imprégné. J’ai l‘impression qu’en cette saison quasiment crépusculaire, les âmes sont meilleures et les cœurs plus sensibles… Et pourtant, on continue à se battre.
– Paroles de Poilus: Lettres et carnets du front, lettre 2, 5 octobre 1917, Henry Lange
“If we could walk inside our own horizon, the world would appear as closed off as a cave, as reflective as a mirror, and as ephemeral as light. For me, the horizon is not a line, it’s a dimension. Questioning one’s own horizon requires us to question linearity and create a new horizon.” – Olafur Eliasson on Inside the Horizon at Fondation Louis Vuitton.
“I have always thought “Twombly” ought to be (if it isn’t already) a verb, as in twombly: (vt.): to hover thoughtfully over a surface, tracing glyphs and graphs of mischievous suggestiveness, periodically touching down amidst discharges of passionate intensity. Or, then again, perhaps a noun, as in twombly (n.): A line with a mind of its own.” – Simon Schama.
“When spring comes to Paris the humblest mortal alive must feel that he dwells in paradise.” – Henry Miller.
“Even the majestic trees that graced and sheltered her streets were attuned to her–and the waters of the Seine, contained and beautiful as they wound through her heart; so that the earth on that spot, so shaped by blood and consciousness, had ceased to be the earth and had become Paris.” – Anne Rice.