Brighton Beach Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Brighton Beach. Here they are! All 22 of them:

Sure it hurts, but if you love someone, you forgive them." Blanche Somethings you forgive, somethings you never forgive." Kate
Neil Simon (Brighton Beach Memoirs)
even the Pyramids and other “great works” were as ephemeral as a castle of sand on the beach at Brighton.
Dan Simmons (The Fifth Heart)
And here in this other realm she looms over him, vast and sprawling, wildly patchwork and dense. Not just older and bigger. Stronger in many ways: her arms and core are thick with muscled neighborhoods that each have their own rhythms and reputations. Williamsburg, Hasidim enclave and artist haven turned hipster ground zero. Bed Stuy (do or die). Crown Heights, where now the only riots are over seats at brunch. Her jaw is tight with the stubborn ferocity of Brighton Beach's old mobsters and the Rockaways' working-class holdouts against the brutal inevitability of rising seas. But there are spires at Brooklyn's heart, too- perhaps not as grand as his own, and maybe some of hers are actually the airy, fanciful amusement-park towers of Coney Island- but all are just as shining, just as sharp.
N.K. Jemisin (The City We Became (Great Cities, #1))
Evan Handler's new book is simply wonderful. He pulls you inside his life, and you come out his very close friend.
Neil Simon (Brighton Beach Memoirs)
I got up. I went to work in the morning. The first thing I did at my desk was surf the news. A flock of dead seagulls was found washed up on Brighton Beach, dredged up with seaweed.
Ling Ma (Severance)
Through Jimi Hendrix's music you can almost see the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy and of Martin Luther King Junior, the beginnings of the Berlin Wall, Yuri Gagarin in space, Fidel Castro and Cuba, the debut of Spiderman, Martin Luther King Junior’s ‘I Have a Dream’ speech, Ford Mustang cars, anti-Vietnam protests, Mary Quant designing the mini-skirt, Indira Gandhi becoming the Prime Minister of India, four black students sitting down at a whites-only lunch counter in Greensboro North Carolina, President Johnson pushing the Civil Rights Act, flower children growing their hair long and practicing free love, USA-funded IRA blowing up innocent civilians on the streets and in the pubs of Great Britain, Napalm bombs being dropped on the lush and carpeted fields of Vietnam, a youth-driven cultural revolution in Swinging London, police using tear gas and billy-clubs to break up protests in Chicago, Mods and Rockers battling on Brighton Beach, Native Americans given the right to vote in their own country, the United Kingdom abolishing the death penalty, and the charismatic Argentinean Marxist revolutionary Che Guevara. It’s all in Jimi’s absurd and delirious guitar riffs.
Karl Wiggins (Wrong Planet - Searching for your Tribe)
Brighton Beach does not look, smell, or sound like Russia. It's a parody of Russia at best, something as different from the real thing as a picture of the Eiffel Tower. Yes, they sell Russian food on Brighton Beach, and Russian books and videos, and Russian clothes, and there are Russian restaurants and Russian nightclubs, and everybody speaks Russian, but the Russianness of the place is so concentrated that it feels ridiculously exaggerated. Everything Russian on Brighton Beach is too Russian, far more Russian than in real Russia. This is what happens all over Brooklyn. From the Scandinavians of Bay Ridge to the Chinese of Sunset Park, Brooklyn's immigrants go to ridiculous extremes to re-create their homelands only to end up with a vulgar pastiche.
Lara Vapnyar
You wonder about me. I wonder about you. Who are you and what are you doing? Are you in a New York subway car hanging from a strap, or soaking in your hot tub in Sunnyvale? Are you sunbathing on a sandy beach in Phuket, or having your toenails buffed in Brighton? Are you a male or a female or somewhat in between? Is your girlfriend cooking you a yummy dinner, or are you eating cold Chinese noodles from a box? Are you curled up with your back turned coldly toward your snoring wife, or are you eagerly waiting for your beautiful lover to finish his bath so you can make passionate love to him? Do you have a cat and is she sitting on your lap? Does her forehead smell like cedar trees and fresh sweet air?
Ruth Ozeki (A Tale for the Time Being)
[quoting British philosopher Edward Carpenter] I used to go and sit on the beach at Brighton and dream, and now I sit on the shore of human life and dream practically the same dreams. I remember about that time that I mention - or it may have been a trifle later - coming to the distinct conclusion that there were only two things really worth living for - the glory and beauty of Nature, and the glory and beauty of human love and friendship. And to-day I still feel the same. What else indeed is there? All the nonsense about riches, fame, distinction, ease, luxury and so forth - how little does it amount to! These things are so obviously second-hand affairs, useful only and in so far as they may lead to the first two, and short of their doing that liable to become odious and harmful. To become united and in line with the beauty and vitality of Nature (but, Lord help us! we are far enough off from that at present), and to become united with those we love - what other ultimate object in life is there? Surely all these other things, these games and examinations, these churches and chapels, these district councils and money markets, these top-hats and telephones and even the general necessity of earning one's living - if they are not ultimately for that, what are they for?
Andrew Hodges (Alan Turing: The Enigma)
They stood looking down Brighton Beach Avenue, Arianna waiting for a signal from Slava. He glared at the doomed souls wandering past them, their legs varicose and bent, the jowls swimming in fat, bellies hung over the legs like overripe fruit. (Had Otto made his way down here, to see firsthand what he was dealing with in his folders, or did he prefer to keep his distance?) Yes, they weren’t easy to be near. The mesh bags stuffed with discount tomatoes, the lumbering bodies heedless of traffic lights, the threadbare emporia that had to traffic in furs and DVDs and manicures to squeeze from the stone of this life the blood of a dollar. And these were the honest ones. After fifty years of Soviet chatteldom, they had come here to get fucked in the ass for a little bit longer before packing off to a spot at Lincoln Cemetery, even this impossible to acquire without money being passed under the table.
Boris Fishman (A Replacement Life)
They stood looking down Brighton Beach Avenue, Arianna waiting for a signal from Slava. He glared at the doomed souls wandering past them, their legs varicose and bent, the jowls swimming in fat, bellies hung over the legs like overripe fruit. (Had Otto made his way down here, to see firsthand what he was dealing with in his folders, or did he prefer to keep his distance?) Yes, they weren’t easy to be near. The mesh bags stuffed with discount tomatoes, the lumbering bodies heedless of traffic lights, the threadbare emporia that had to traffic in furs and DVDs and manicures to squeeze from the stone of this life the blood of a dollar. And these were the honest ones. After fifty years of Soviet chatteldom, they had come here to get fucked in the ass for a little bit longer before packing off to a spot at Lincoln Cemetery, even this impossible to acquire without money being passed under the table. They never even voted.
Boris Fishman (A Replacement Life)
PRAXIS DUVEEN, AT THE age of five, sitting on the beach at Brighton, made a pretty picture for the photographer. Round angel face, yellow curls, puffed sleeves, white socks and little white shoes—one on, one off, while she tried to take a pebble from between her tiny pink toes—delightful! The photographer had hoped to include her elder sister Hypatia in the picture, but that sullen, sallow little girl had refused to appear on the same piece of card as her ill-shod sister.
Fay Weldon (Praxis: A Novel)
Mirabelle always ate her lunch on Brighton beach if the weather was in any way passable, but out of sheer principle she never paid tuppence for a chair. We did not win the war to have to pay to sit down, she frequently found herself thinking.
Sara Sheridan (Brighton Belle)
wearing only a bathing suit interjected, “We would never swim in the Pacific Ocean, Carolyn. The waves at Santa Monica Beach are so lame. You don’t have to worry at all. We just want to roast marshmallows.
Brighton Hill (Bluehour (Watermagic Series Book 1))
Yevgeny Dvoskin – Brighton Beach mobster who became one of Russia’s most notorious ‘shadow bankers’ after moving back to Moscow with his uncle, Ivankov, joining forces with the Russian security services to funnel tens of billions of dollars in ‘black cash’ into the West. Felix Sater – Dvoskin’s best friend since childhood. Became a key business partner of the Trump Organization, developing a string of properties for Trump, all the while retaining high-level contacts in Russian intelligence.
Catherine Belton (Putin's People: How the KGB Took Back Russia and Then Took On the West)
B train for Brighton Beach. Though the subway trip may have been shorter than going by car, it still seemed interminable, and just when I thought I couldn’t take one more second, the train rocketed out of the tunnel and up onto an elevated track. I should have realized part of the trip would be aboveground, but I hadn’t been expecting it. We rattled along the track, past endless grim, grimy red-brick buildings. A few seconds later, we pulled into
Kate White (Over Her Dead Body (Bailey Weggins Mystery #4))
I was gazing at: Brighton Beach Avenue, a four-lane road below the elevated train, was lined with endless storefronts—delis, hair salons, bookstores, dentists, funeral homes, palm readers—
Kate White (Over Her Dead Body (Bailey Weggins Mystery #4))
It turned out that somebody had reported a suspicious person on the beach, remember when they used to come in fishing-boats, the illegals, and thanks to that anonymous telephone call there were now fifty-seven uniformed constables combing the beach, their flashlights swinging crazily in the dark, constables from as far away as Hastings Eastbourne Bexhill-upon-Sea, even a deputation from Brighton because nobody wanted to miss the fun, the thrill of the chase.
Salman Rushdie (The Satanic Verses)
I mean, if you give in when you're eighteen and a half, you'll give in for the rest of your life, don't you think?
Neil Simon (Brighton Beach Memoirs)
Nein, das ist es nicht... eigentlich glaube ich, dass die Unsterblichen uns beneiden. Sie wissen nicht, wie es sich anfühlt, jeden Moment so zu geniessen wie wir. Erinnerst du dich, als wir vor ein paar Monaten einen Spaziergang bei Sonnenuntergang am Brighton Beach gemacht haben und wie wunderschön das Meer an diesem Tag geschimmert hat, wie es in der untergehenden Sonne getanzt hat? Atemberaubend! Und erinnerst du dich, was du gesagt hast? 'Aber solange wir alle Freundlichkeit üben, wo immer wir auch hingehen, und nicht aufhören, uns über diese so wunderbare und atemberaubende Welt zu wundern, wird unsere Existenz keineswegs verschwendet sein. Keineswegs! Also lasst uns einen schönen Drink nehmen, uns umarmen und vor dem wunderschönen Sonnenuntergang weinen, den wir gerade erleben werden! Und dann nach Hause gehen, zusammen schlafen und alles morgen genauso wiederholen!
Ryan Gelpke (Die Howl Gang Legende (German Edition))
As early as June of 1981, Brighton Beach was known as Little Odessa, with a quarter of its businesses owned by Soviet Jews.
Thomas Dyja (New York, New York, New York: Four Decades of Success, Excess, and Transformation)
Finally, Herschel completely perplexed the poet by remarking that many distant stars had probably 'ceased to exist' millions of years ago, and that looking up into the night sky we were seeing a stellar landscape that was not really there at all. The sky was full of ghosts. 'The light did travel after the body was gone.' After leaving Herschel, Campbell walked onto the shingle of Brighton beach, gazing out to sea, feeling 'elevated and overcome.' He was reminded of Newton's observation that he was just a child picking up shells on the seashore, while the great ocean of truth lay before him.
Richard Holmes