Paved Paradise Quotes

I recall certain moments, let us call them icebergs in paradise, when after having had my fill of her –after fabulous, insane exertions that left me limp and azure-barred–I would gather her in my arms with, at last, a mute moan of human tenderness (her skin glistening in the neon light coming from the paved court through the slits in the blind, her soot-black lashes matted, her grave gray eyes more vacant than ever–for all the world a little patient still in the confusion of a drug after a major operation)–and the tenderness would deepen to shame and despair, and I would lull and rock my lone light Lolita in my marble arms, and moan in her warm hair, and caress her at random and mutely ask her blessing, and at the peak of this human agonized selfless tenderness (with my soul actually hanging around her naked body and ready to repent), all at once, ironically, horribly, lust would swell again–and 'oh, no,' Lolita would say with a sigh to heaven, and the next moment the tenderness and the azure–all would be shattered.

Did you all not know that agony and sufferings are the path that is paved to Paradise? - John Lars Zwerenz

By square footage, there is more housing for each car in the United States than there is housing for each person.

A change in direction was required. The story you finished was perhaps never the one you began. Yes! He would take charge of his life anew, binding his breaking selves together. Those changes in himself that he sought, he himself would initiate and make them. No more of this miasmic, absent drift. How had he ever persuaded himself that his money-mad burg would rescue him all by itself, this Gotham in which Jokers and Penguins were running riot with no Batman (or even Robin) to frustrate their schemes, this Metropolis built of Kryptonite in which no Superman dared set foot, where wealth was mistaken for riches and the joy of possession for happiness, where people lived such polished lives that the great rough truths of raw existence had been rubbed and buffed away, and in which human souls had wandered so separately for so long that they barely remembered how to touch; this city whose fabled electricity powered the electric fences that were being erected between men and men, and men and women, too? Rome did not fall because her armies weakened but because Romans forgot what being Roman meant. Might this new Rome actually be more provincial than its provinces; might these new Romans have forgotten what and how to value, or had they never known? Were all empires so undeserving, or was this one particularly crass? Was nobody in all this bustling endeavor and material plenitude engaged, any longer, on the deep quarry-work of the mind and heart? O Dream-America, was civilization's quest to end in obesity and trivia, at Roy Rogers and Planet Hollywood, in USA Today and on E!; or in million-dollar-game-show greed or fly-on-the-wall voyeurism; or in the eternal confessional booth of Ricki and Oprah and Jerry, whose guests murdered each other after the show; or in a spurt of gross-out dumb-and-dumber comedies designed for young people who sat in darkness howling their ignorance at the silver screen; or even at the unattainable tables of Jean-Georges Vongerichten and Alain Ducasse? What of the search for the hidden keys that unlock the doors of exaltation? Who demolished the City on the Hill and put in its place a row of electric chairs, those dealers in death's democracy, where everyone, the innocent, the mentally deficient, the guilty, could come to die side by side? Who paved Paradise and put up a parking lot? Who settled for George W. Gush's boredom and Al Bore's gush? Who let Charlton Heston out of his cage and then asked why children were getting shot? What, America, of the Grail? O ye Yankee Galahads, ye Hoosier Lancelots, O Parsifals of the stockyards, what of the Table Round? He felt a flood bursting in him and did not hold back. Yes, it had seduced him, America; yes, its brilliance aroused him, and its vast potency too, and he was compromised by this seduction. What he opposed in it he must also attack in himself. It made him want what it promised and eternally withheld. Everyone was an American now, or at least Americanized: Indians, Uzbeks, Japanese, Lilliputians, all. America was the world's playing field, its rule book, umpire, and ball. Even anti-Americanism was Americanism in disguise, conceding, as it did, that America was the only game in town and the matter of America the only business at hand; and so, like everyone, Malik Solanka now walked its high corridors cap in hand, a supplicant at its feast; but that did not mean he could not look it in the eye. Arthur had fallen, Excalibur was lost and dark Mordred was king. Beside him on the throne of Camelot sat the queen, his sister, the witch Morgan le Fay.

People will drive by their high school ten years down the road, just so they can pretend that thinking "not much has changed" is actually true. When really, everything has changed. The air smells the same, but the roads have cracked more. The roads have cracked so much they now look like the skin on a crocodile's back. And all the fields, green in the summers, golden in the autumns, have all been paved over with new reasons to never come back.

Joni Mitchell had it right: "They paved paradise / and put up a parking lot." But perhaps, in the near future, we could add a line of hopeful epilogue to that song: then they tore down the parking lot / and raised up a paradise

Neighbors who demand that new projects come with more parking are essentially levying a tax, one that drives up the cost of new homes and stops a countless number from being built at all.

One study from 2017 found that U.S. drivers spent, on average, seventeen hours searching for parking every year—$345 per person in wasted time, fuel, and emissions—and the numbers were much higher in big cities.

Big Yellow Taxi They paved paradise Put up a parking lot With a pink hotel, a boutique And a swinging hot spot Don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you've got till it's gone? They paved paradise Put up a parking lot They took all the trees Put 'em in a tree museum And they charged the people A dollar and a half just to see 'em Don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you've got till it's gone? They paved paradise Put up a parking lot Hey farmer, farmer Put away the DDT now Give me spots on my apples But leave me the birds and the bees, please Don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you've got till it's gone? They paved paradise Put up a parking lot Late last night I heard the screen door slam And a big yellow taxi Took away my old man Don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you've got till it's gone? They paved paradise Put up a parking lot I said, "Don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you've got till it's gone? They paved paradise Put up a parking lot" They paved paradise Put up a parking lot They paved paradise Put up a parking lot

I recall certain moments, let us call them icebergs in paradise, when after having had my fill of her—after fabulous, insane exertions that left me limp and azure-barred—I would gather her in my arms with, at last, a mute moan of human tenderness (her skin glistening in the neon light coming from the paved court through the slits in the blind, her soot-black lashes matted, her grave gray eyes more vacant than ever—for all the world a little patient still in the confusion of a drug after a major operation)—and the tenderness would deepen to shame and despair, and I would lull and rock my lone light Lolita in my marble arms, and moan in her warm hair, and caress her at random and mutely ask her blessing, and at the peak of this human agonized selfless tenderness (with my soul actually hanging around her naked body and ready to repent), all at once, ironically, horribly, lust would swell again—and “oh, no” Lolita would say with a sigh to heaven, and the next moment the tenderness and the azure—all would be shattered

The general manager of the Cleveland transit system, D. C. Hyde, argued in 1952 that parking was doing the opposite of what its builders believed: “Destroying buildings and using valuable land for more and more parking lots and garages hastens decentralization. . . . It is just as sensible to stop doing things that bring more automobiles into already congested areas as it is to stop buying drinks for a person who is already drunk.

The desert agglomeration of Phoenix has 12.2 million parking spaces, about 3 per person, 4.3 per vehicle, and 6.6 per job, divided more or less evenly between the street, commercial facilities, and home garages. Parking accounts for 10 percent of the manmade landscape in the Valley of the Sun.

The argument to your claim is that the path to Hell is paved with good intentions. Believing the ends justifies the means is a very, very slippery slope into the paradise of tyranny.

for all the talk about roads and cars, every vehicle spends an estimated 95 percent of its life span parked.

Excavations in the ruins of the immense royal city of Recópolis (near Zorita de los Canes in the province of Guadalajara), built by the Visigoth king Leovigild, have shown a topographic imitation of Constantinople, the existence of an aqueduct, a palatial basilica (likely an imitation of the Greek Christian basilica of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople), commercial and residential centers, paved streets, coin manufacturing, sturdy buildings constructed with stones extracted with Roman technology from local stone quarries, and other features usually associated with thriving Greek-Roman cities.

Another celebrated building that we saw inside the Fort was the Diwan-i-Khas. Here can be seen in Persian characters the famous inscription, “If a paradise be on the face of the earth, it is this, it is this, it is this.” At the time of the Delhi Durbar in 1903 to celebrate the proclamation of Edward VII as Emperor of India, this exquisite building was used as a supper room. “This is the Chandni Chauk [Silver Street],” said our driver as we passed along Delhi’s main street. “It is the richest street in the world.” “Used to be,” corrected Sam. “It was sacked at least four times and most of its riches carried away.” Nowadays it is the abode of the jewelers and ivory workers of Delhi. Ten miles south of Delhi, amid the ruins of another ancient Delhi, stands the Kutb Minar, which is said to be the most perfect tower in the world and one of the seven architectural wonders of India. Built of marble and sandstone which is dark red at the base, pink in the middle, and orange on the top story, this remarkable structure, 238 feet high, looks almost brand new, yet it was built in A.D. 1200. Close by is another Indian wonder, the Iron Pillar, dating from A.D. 400. A remarkable tribute to Hindu knowledge of metallurgy and engineering, this pillar, some sixteen inches in diameter and twenty-three feet eight inches in height, is made of pure rustless malleable iron and is estimated to weigh more than six tons. Overlooking both the Fort and the city, and approached by a magnificent flight of stone steps, is the Great Mosque, also erected by Emperor Shah Jehan. It has three domes of white marble, two tall minarets, and a front court measuring 450 feet square, paved with granite and inlaid with marble. “Sight-seeing in Delhi is as tiring as doing the Mediterranean,” I

The road to Hell is paved with evildoers, they'd tell us. And the evildoers were those who had bad thoughts. We always wanted to be good. We believed that to be good was to bow one's head, not to protest, not to demand anything, not to get angry. No one had clarified these things for us. On the contrary, we were always being offered a celestial paradise. The reward for being good. To respect one's neighbor was really to respect the landowner. And to respect the landowner was to conform to his whimsey. If there were no beans to eat after working on the plantation, it was because the landowner couldn't manage, the landowner was suffering losses. If there were no hammocks to sleep in, it was because the harvest had not left the landowner enough time to provide them. And there we were without food, waiting for the afternoon or the evening to go home to eat, a whole day without eating; or we'd go to sleep under the pepetos trees in the coffee fields. We used to confuse goodness with resignation.

They paved paradise Put up a parking lot ​—Joni Mitchell, Big Yellow Taxi

There is no story. There is just the truth. Look around you. Everything you see, and far beyond, all of it was once green. Where you see buildings, thousand-year-old trees once stood. Above, where those aircar cables hang? That was once the crisscross of leafy vines. That cracked asphalt that scalds your paws? It was once rich earth, protected by a blanket of grass. And our kind did not look into glass windows to find our skinny reflections; we saw our faces mirrored in fresh streams—not one of them toxic. It was a paradise. Then the men came. They pulled up every plant. They drove off every animal. They paved over each patch of dirt. They built towers higher than the tallest tree trunks. They pumped smoke from factory chimneys, driving away the clouds. They replaced all that was green with shades of gray—steel and iron and concrete. But with time, mutations occur. Nature begins to adapt. If you don’t adapt, you don’t stand a chance in this world. And if you don’t have friends by your side, alerting you to danger and sharing their good food, it’s a very lonely world, indeed. So stick together, little ones. Stay close to your littermates, and help each other adapt. Make the world greener through your dreams. Build your own paradise.

the Valley of High Parking Requirements. On one edge of the valley were single-family homes, fast-food restaurants, low-slung commercial box stores—all the familiar building types that could be comfortably “parked” at ground level, even if parking took up 60 or 70 percent of the property. On the other edge of the valley were high-density, high-value properties like offices, hotels, malls, and condos that could afford to build structured (or even subterranean) parking garages. Anything in between was impossible to build because it was impossible to park—surface parking would take up too much room; structured parking would cost too much to build. The Valley of High Parking Requirements was barren ground where nothing would grow.

Parking determines the design of new buildings and the fate of old ones, patterns of traffic and the viability of transit, neighborhood politics and municipal finance, the quality of public space, and even the course of floodwaters.

I Start My Day in a Positive Way The morning whispers, "Wakey wakey, rise and shine, open your door and let the sunshine in". With love and gratitude, I open my eyes. Each breath I take is pure and blessed. I feel the essence of my soul. My mind is clear, my heart’s aligned, This day is a gift, a treasure to explore. I start my day in a positive way, With empowering affirmations paving my way. "Today, I am aligned with my highest good; I am a magnet for joy and abundance." Each day’s a time for my life to get better and better. in love and peace, intention and purpose, my positive evolution. I welcome each day with open arms, I choose to live in divine source energy. Intentions are set, my actions are true, Success and serenity in all that I do. I walk with momentum; my vision is clear. Aligned with my purpose, I step into my day. I start my day in a positive way, With empowering affirmations paving my way. "Today, I am aligned with my highest self; I am a magnet for joy and abundance." Each day my life gets better and better in love, and peace, and intention and purpose, my positive engagement. In every moment, my journey unfolds, I write my story in hues of gold. Every thought I choose, every word I say, Shapes the path I walk today. With clarity and wisdom, love in my heart, I’m moving forward, creating my art. Today’s a fresh chapter, a perfect start. I welcome this day with open arms. I wake up with gratitude in my heart and clear thoughts in my mind. I choose thoughts nourishing my soul." I am the creator of my reality. Positivity flows, lighting my way, I embrace my evolution; it gets better every day. I am smart, capable, and ready to grow. The seeds of success are growing and showing. I set my intentions and align my actions I am committed, inspired, and ready for the day ahead. Each action is a step toward my dreams. I trust in my journey and celebrate my progress. I'm creating my paradise. I start my day in a positive way, With empowering affirmations paving my way. "Today, I am aligned with my highest self; I am a magnet for joy and abundance." Each day’s a time for my life to get better, in love, and peace, and intention and purpose, my positive transformation. Today is my canvas, painted with grace, I carry my dreams; I own my space. With optimism, focus, and inner peace, I rise with strength; my growth is beautiful. This life is mine; I’m choosing today. Aligned with good in every way. I trust in my journey and celebrate my progress. I Start My Day in a Positive Way I always Start My Day in a Positive Way with a positive affirmation

behold: an artificial adam crashing down at megiddo, paving gehenna to put up a depraved parking-lot paradise

Agra to Etawah: A Drive That Felt Like a Dream Expectations Low, Experience High Before I started my journey from Agra to Etawah, I didn’t think much of it. Just another stretch of road to cross off the map. But as soon as I entered the Agra-Etawah Toll Road, everything changed. I wasn't just on a highway—I was on a masterpiece of infrastructure. Perfectly paved lanes, seamless traffic flow, and a sense of calm surrounded me. It didn’t take long for me to realize: this is one of India’s Best Highway Infrastructure examples—and it’s not talked about enough. #India'sBestHighwayInfrastructure Silky Asphalt and a Soulful Drive You know those rare roads where the car just glides, the hum of the tires feels like music, and every turn seems designed for smooth sailing? That’s this highway. I hardly felt any bumps. Overtaking was effortless, thanks to the wide lanes and well-behaved traffic. I’ve driven on the Yamuna Expressway, Mumbai-Pune Expressway, and even some abroad. But this one? Easily stands among the best. #BestHighwayInfrastructure A Highway Built for the Present—and the Future It’s clear that this highway isn’t just about reaching from point A to B. It’s about redefining how we travel. Whether it was the smartly placed exits, proper street lighting, or those clearly visible reflective markers at night—everything felt future-ready. Driving here felt secure, even after sunset. I didn’t once feel unsure or lost. That’s what modern infrastructure should feel like. #ModernRoadMakers Service Areas That Make You Stop Willingly Halfway into the drive, I stopped at a service plaza just out of curiosity—and ended up staying longer than planned. Clean bathrooms (yes, actually clean), plenty of food options, and shaded seating areas made it a great break spot. It’s rare to find highways that value the comfort of travelers this much. Even the fueling stations were organized and not overcrowded. It made me wonder—why can’t all highways be this well-managed? #BestHighwayInfrastructure Minimal Traffic, Maximum Peace The thing that made this drive memorable was the peace it brought. Open surroundings, light traffic, disciplined lanes—it was meditative. Even the occasional truck followed lane rules, which is a miracle in itself. I rolled down my window, took in the fields on both sides, and just drove in silence. No honking, no chaos—just the road and the rhythm of travel. #India'sBestHighwayInfrastructure In Closing: This Is How Roads Should Be The Agra-Etawah Toll Road isn’t just another Indian highway—it’s a statement. It shows what’s possible when roads are built with thought, quality, and a long-term vision. If every route in the country followed this example, India would be a paradise for road trip lovers. To anyone planning a road trip in North India: take this highway. You won’t regret a single kilometer. #ModernRoadMakers

Agra to Etawah: A Drive That Felt Like a Dream Expectations Low, Experience High Before I started my journey from Agra to Etawah, I didn’t think much of it. Just another stretch of road to cross off the map. But as soon as I entered the Agra-Etawah Toll Road, everything changed. I wasn't just on a highway—I was on a masterpiece of infrastructure. Perfectly paved lanes, seamless traffic flow, and a sense of calm surrounded me. It didn’t take long for me to realize: this is one of India’s Best Highway Infrastructure examples—and it’s not talked about enough. #India'sBestHighwayInfrastructure Silky Asphalt and a Soulful Drive You know those rare roads where the car just glides, the hum of the tires feels like music, and every turn seems designed for smooth sailing? That’s this highway. I hardly felt any bumps. Overtaking was effortless, thanks to the wide lanes and well-behaved traffic. I’ve driven on the Yamuna Expressway, Mumbai-Pune Expressway, and even some abroad. But this one? Easily stands among the best. #BestHighwayInfrastructure A Highway Built for the Present—and the Future It’s clear that this highway isn’t just about reaching from point A to B. It’s about redefining how we travel. Whether it was the smartly placed exits, proper street lighting, or those clearly visible reflective markers at night—everything felt future-ready. Driving here felt secure, even after sunset. I didn’t once feel unsure or lost. That’s what modern infrastructure should feel like. #ModernRoadMakers Service Areas That Make You Stop Willingly Halfway into the drive, I stopped at a service plaza just out of curiosity—and ended up staying longer than planned. Clean bathrooms (yes, actually clean), plenty of food options, and shaded seating areas made it a great break spot. It’s rare to find highways that value the comfort of travelers this much. Even the fueling stations were organized and not overcrowded. It made me wonder—why can’t all highways be this well-managed? #BestHighwayInfrastructure Minimal Traffic, Maximum Peace The thing that made this drive memorable was the peace it brought. Open surroundings, light traffic, disciplined lanes—it was meditative. Even the occasional truck followed lane rules, which is a miracle in itself. I rolled down my window, took in the fields on both sides, and just drove in silence. No honking, no chaos—just the road and the rhythm of travel. #India'sBestHighwayInfrastructure In Closing: This Is How Roads Should Be The Agra-Etawah Toll Road isn’t just another Indian highway—it’s a statement. It shows what’s possible when roads are built with thought, quality, and a long-term vision. If every route in the country followed this example, India would be a paradise for road trip lovers. To anyone planning a road trip in North India: take this highway. You won’t regret a single kilometer. #ModernRoadMakers

What has existed in a place, and what has happened there, are hard to cover up. The past bleeds through layers of accumulation like graffiti through whitewash. The truth of a place often is not hidden but can be seen in plain sight. Bulldoze enough dirt, slap down enough paving, and run enough traffic over the past, and you can sometimes eliminate it in one location, only to have it pop to the surface in another.

By 1972, the Detroit City Planning Commission made a downbeat assessment of how the Motor City's downtown had wound up dedicating 74 percent of its land to vehicle movement and storage: "The automobile has an insatiable appetite for space. It needs about 300 square feet when stored in its home quarters; 300 square feet when stored at its pace of destination; and 600 square feet on its way. It further needs about 200 square feet for those places where it is sold, repaired, and serviced. Thus an automobile needs 1400 square feet of living space. That is equal to the living space of a family unit.

Of course, people didn't stop coming to California. Newer, younger, and poorer residents just spilled out away from the coast, into fire-prone forests in the north of the state and scorching deserts in the south. Drive till you quality for a mortgage, and then spend the rest of your life driving to work.

The country builds more three-car garages than than one-bedroom apartments. More square footage is dedicated to parking each car than to housing each person. [. . .] By some estimates, there are as many as six parking spaces for every car, meaning that our national parking stock is never more than 17 percent occupied.

(Car) Dealers no make more money on loan interest and insurance than they do selling cars.