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HerbCaen

  1. San Francisco has "color" to an almost overwhelmingly degree. Not all of it is pretty — but all of it is real; all of it memorable.
  2. Indian summer, and the old city asleep and dreaming —silent, and perfect as the moon overhead.
  3. It's the indescribable conglomeration of beauty and ugliness that makes San Francisco a poem without meter – a city without equal.
  4. A machine might replace a columnist someday, all right, but it won't get any more work done. Not if it's properly programmed.
  5. San Francisco: Postcards in glowing colors stacked against the hills that march from the Bay on one side to the Pacific Ocean on the other.
  6. Mid-Market Street. It is wide, long, stubborn, and unregenerate — a true brute of a street. A dead end with a life all its own.
  7. Isn't it nice that people who prefer Los Angeles to San Francisco live there? #sfgiants #beatla
  8. Gone are the years when everything was as it should be...When you smiled about bridges across the Bay and buses instead of streetcars.
  9. Caress each Spanish syllable. Don't say "Frisco." Don't say "San-Fran-Cis-Co." That's how tourists pronounce it. It's "SanfrnSISco."
  10. Occasionally you'll be drenched by a downpour the natives call "wet fog." It hardly ever rains in The City. But it "wet fogs" quite a bit.
  11. A mistake is simply another way of doing things.
  12. I began as a sentimentalist and a callow nostalgic. I thought The City was the greatest city in the world -- there were no warts on my lady.
  13. If he's a native San Franciscan he'll tell you the first time you meet him; if he isn't, he'll say that he was "practically" born here.
  14. "Cogito ergo spud" [I think, therefore I yam]
  15. Love makes this town go 'round. Love and hate, pot and booze, despair and buckets of coffee, most of it stale.
  16. The smug majesty of City Hall's famed dome: Higher (and dirtier) than Washington's, and so far above the conniving that goes on beneath it.
  17. The old days might not have been better, but they were certainly different in the nicest possible way.
  18. Saturday night dies slowly, for those who worship it and live for it do their best to keep it alive. And tomorrow they die with a hangover.
  19. Above the city floats a haze of turkey, champagne and garbage. Underfoot, gift wrapping and Scotch tape stuck to your sole.
  20. I sometimes worry about my short attention span, but not for very long.