Christopher Isherwood Quotes About Los Angeles

Quotes about: Los Angeles

• The town is an advertisement for itself; none of its charms are left to the visitor's imagination.

  Christopher Isherwood

  Imagination, Towns, Visitors

  Christopher Isherwood (1949). “The Condor and the Cows: A South American Travel-diary”

• To live sanely in Los Angeles ... you have to cultivate the art of staying awake. You must learn to resist (firmly but not tensely) the unceasing hypnotic suggestions of the radio, the billboards, the movies and the newspapers; those demon voices which are forever whispering in your ear what you should desire, what you should fear, what you should wear and eat and drink and enjoy, what you should think and do and be.

  Christopher Isherwood

  Art, Thinking, Voice

  Christopher Isherwood (1966). “Exhumations: Stories, Articles, Verses”

• The landscape, like Los Angeles itself, is transitional. Impermanence haunts the city, with its mushroom industries--the aircraft perpetually becoming obsolete, the oil which must one day be exhausted, the movies which fill America's theatres for six months and are forgotten. Many of its houses--especially the grander ones--have a curiously disturbing atmosphere, a kind of psychological dankness which smells of anxiety, overdrafts, uneasy lust, whisky, divorce and lies.

  Christopher Isherwood

  Lying, Divorce, Cities

• In the eternal lazy morning of the Pacific, days slip away into months, months into years; the seasons are reduced to the faintest nuance by the great central fact of the sunshine; one might pass a lifetime, it seems, between two yawns, lying bronzed and naked in the sand.

  Christopher Isherwood

  Morning, Lying, Sunshine

• In order to get the worst possible first impression of Los Angeles one should arrive there by bus, preferably in summer and on a Saturday night.

  Christopher Isherwood

  Summer, Night, Order

• Hollywood's two polar types are the cynically drunken writer aggressively nursing a ten-year-old reputation and the theatrically self-conscious hermit who strides the boulevard in sandals, home-made shorts and a prophetic beard, muttering against the Age of the Machines.

  Christopher Isherwood

  Home, Nursing, Self

  Christopher Isherwood (1966). “Exhumations: Stories, Articles, Verses”

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