Nothing is wrong with Southern California that a rise in the ocean level wouldn't cure.

There are two million interesting people in New York and only seventy-eight in Los Angeles.

Fall is my favorite season in Los Angeles, watching the birds change colors and fall from the trees.

Perhaps there is no life after death ... there's just Los Angeles.

L.A.: where there's never weather, and walking is a crime. L.A.: where the streetlights and palm trees go on forever, where darkness never comes, like a deal that never goes down, a meeting that's never taken. The City of Angels: where every cockroach has a screenplay and even the winos wear roller skates. It's that kind of town.

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

I mean, who would want to live in a place where the only cultural advantage is that you can turn right on a red light?