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is a city of dinners, soirees, erratic millionaires, painters, translators, lobsters, absinthe, music promenades, oysters, sherry, aspirin, pictures, sapphic heiresses, editors, books, sailors.

Dinners, soirees, erratic millionaires, painters, translators, lobsters, absinthe, music promenades, oysters, sherry, aspirin, pictures, Sapphic heiresses, editors, books, sailors. And how! [of Paris] CRANE, Hart (1899-1932)

is a city of encounters, of furtive and painful discoveries. All isms converge there, including the anti-isms, all the revolutionaries too, including the counterrevolutionaries.

Paris: city of encounters, of furtive and painful discoveries. All isms converge there, including the anti-isms, all the revolutionaries too, including the counterrevolutionaries . Elie Wiesel

is a city of gaities and pleasures, where four-fifths of the inhabitants die of grief.

Paris is a city of gaities and pleasures, where four-fifths of the inhabitants die of grief. CHANCELIOP CHAMFORT, Nicolas (1741-1794)

is a city that is terribly derisive of all absurd pretensions but its own.

[A city] terribly derisive of all absurd pretensions but its own. [of Paris] EMERSON, Ralph Waldo (1803-1882)

is a city that makes demands of the heart, just as munich makes demands of the stomach.

Of one thing there is no doubt: if Paris makes demands of the heart, then Munich makes demands of the stomach. Rachel Johnson

is a city where great ideas perish, done to death by a witticism.

A city where great ideas perish, done to death by a witticism, [of Paris] BALZAC, Honore de (1799-1850)

is a city where one can arrange one's life exactly as one pleases. . . There are facilities for every kind of habit and taste, and everything is accepted and understood.

. . . the great merit of the place is that one can arrange one's life here exactly as one pleases. . . there are facilities for every kind of habit and taste, and everything is accepted and understood. Henry James

is a festive town, a thin crust of gilded, polished joy, such that it matters little if hell's just beneath.

Yea, Paris is a festive ton -a festive Ton for all! Skate o'er on joy -Thin crust of gilded, polished joy! What matters it if Hell's beneath' D. H. Lawrence

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