Leicester Square Quotes

We Three Kings of Leicester Square, Selling ladies’ underwear, So fantastic, no elastic, Only tuppence a pair.

No job in the world is worth destroying yourself over, even if you work in a brilliant, beautiful place like the NHS. It’s OK to take a break or a breather. It’s also OK to step away altogether, if that’s the right thing to do. In a world of people telling you not to rock the boat, sometimes you have to fuck the boat. Do it with as much love and tenderness as you can manage, but grab your trunks and start swimming. Only you know what’s in your heart – whether it’s becoming a caricaturist in Leicester Square, moving to Chad or moving in with Chad. I promise you’ll sleep a lot better.

Unlike Dyson, he [Phillipps] walked fast, with his eye on the pavement, absorbed in his thoughts, and oblivious of the life around him; and he could not have told by what streets he had passed, when he suddenly lifted up his eyes and found himself in Leicester Square.

Wintry morning, looking with dull eyes and sallow face upon the neighbourhood of Leicester Square, finds its inhabitants unwilling to get out of bed. Many of them are not early risers at the brightest of times, being birds of night who roost when the sun is high and are wide awake and keen for prey when the stars shine out. Behind dingy blind and curtain, in upper story and garret, skulking more or less under false names, false hair, false titles, false jewellery, and false histories, a colony of brigands lie in their first sleep. Gentlemen

With failing bravado, Dexter tried to laugh. "You sound like you're dumping me!" She smiled sadly. "I suppose I am in a way. You're not who you used to be, Dex, I really, really liked the old one. I'd like him back, but in the meantime, I'm sorry, but I don't think you should phone me anymore." She turned and, a little unsteadily, began to walk off down the side alley in the direction of Leicester Square. For a moment, Dexter had a fleeting but perfectly clear memory of himself at his mother's funeral, curled up on the bathroom floor while Emma held onto him and stroked his hair.Yet somehow he had managed to treat this as nothing, to throw it all away for dross. He followed a little way behind her. "Come on, Em, we're still friends aren't we? I know I've been a little weird, it's just..." She stopped for a moment, but didn't turn round, and he knew that she was crying. "Emma?" Then very quickly she turned, walked up to him and pulled his face to hers, her cheek warm and wet against his, speaking quickly and quietly in his ear, and for one bright moment he thought he was to be forgiven. "Dexter, I love you so much. So, so much, and I probably always will." Her lips touched his cheek. "I just don't like you anymore. I'm sorry." And then she was gone, and he found himself on the street, standing alone in this back alley trying to imagine what he would possibly do next.

At the reception, Jessamine told me and Nicholas and Oliver a story about the first time she went into town at night, as a teenager. Winsome was supposed to pick her up at nine but she wasn’t there. By nine-thirty all Jessamine’s friends had gone home and she was alone in a crowd at Leicester Square, embarrassed, then angry, then afraid because the only reason Winsome would be late was if she was dead. Oliver said, “Yeah, even then she would have made it.” Jessamine said exactly. “But then, at like ten, I saw her shoving through a group of drunk people, I honestly felt like I was going to vomit and cry, I was so relieved. It’s like, one second you can be alone and terrified in a crowd of scary idiots and the next you know you’re completely safe.

And it came to him then, as clearly and as certainly as if he had been watching it on the big screen at the Odeon, Leicester Square: the rest of his life. He would go home tonight with the girl from Computer Services, and they would make gentle love, and tomorrow, it being Saturday, they would spend the morning in bed. And then they would get up, and together they would remove his possessions from the packing cases, and put them away. In a year, or a little less, he would marry the girl from Computer Services, and get another promotion, and they would have two children, a boy and a girl, and they would move out to the suburbs, to Harrow or Croydon or Hampstead or even as far away as distant Reading. And it would not be a bad life. He knew that, too. Sometimes there is nothing you can do.

combed the areas that he might visit, and were in place even before he arrived. And so, on September 24, Vanunu arrived at Leicester Square, a favorite site for tourists and visitors. By a newspaper stand, he saw a girl “that looked very much like Farrah Fawcett, the star of the TV show Charlie’s Angels.” She was a pretty blonde and to him she looked “beautiful and angelic.” He stared at her longingly while she stood in line in front of the newsstand. She turned her head

went up the road for a snack in Fortes café on Leicester Square.

No one doubts that eventually the Matabele will be conquered, and that our flag will wave triumphantly over the remnant of them in the same way it waves triumphantly over the workhouse pauper and the sailors' poor whore in the east end of London. Let it wave on over an empire reaching from north to south, from east to west, wave over every island, hitherto ungrabbed, on every sterile desert and fever-haunted swamp as yet unclaimed, over the sealer amid the icebergs, stripping the fur from the live seal, on purpose to oblige a lady; over the abandoned transport camel, perishing of thirst in the Sudan: and still keep waving over Leicester Square, where music halls at night belch out crowds of stout imperialists.

Zedwell Hotel in Piccadilly Circus sits between Trafalgar Square, Regent Street, Soho & Chinatown. Direct access from Piccadilly Tube Station & close to Leicester Square, Zedwell is ideal for both leisure and business trips. Experience tranquility and comfort with our well-equipped rooms, free high-speed Wi-Fi and on-site gym. A prime location to explore London's vibrant attractions.

Judy Nylon, who as a child had sought succour from her parents’ escapist ‘exotica’ albums and regularly drifted off to sleep to the lulling vibraphones of Martin Denny’s Quiet Village, recalls a slightly different version of events: ‘So it was pouring rain in Leicester Square,

In a short while we drew up in front of Karnak Hall, a modest exhibition facility of some antiquity in a street just off Leicester Square. The Hall had been built in the style of its namesake temple, the edifice set with a series of recesses, each featuring a great statue of Ramses in a different pose. The rest of the façade was painted terra-cotta to resemble the walls of the temple and decorated with fanciful Egyptological friezes. We passed between the legs of one of the Ramses to enter, and I resisted the urge to look up.

long, square