Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Neighboring. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Neighboring Quotes And Sayings by 94 Authors including Jessie Burton,Erin Hunter,Kami Garcia,Edith Evans,August Strindberg for you to enjoy and share.
Neighbours watching neighbours, twisting ropes to bind us all.
WindClan territory
...south of Somewhere and north of Nowhere...
Death is my neighbor now.
The further from one another, the nearer one can be.
I rent a small brick bungalow within a loop of other small brick bungalows, all of which squat on a massive bluff overlooking the former stockyards of Kansas City. Kansas City, Missouri, not Kansas City, Kansas. There's a difference.
The farther away, the closer the home becomes.
To me this out-of-the way corner was always a wonderful and a mysterious place, where my castles in the air stood close together in radiant rows, and where the strangest and most splendid adventures befell me; for the hours I passed in it and the people I met in it were all enchanted.
Placed on this isthmus of a middle state.
In our interdependent world, our neighbors are not only on our street, but can be ten thousand miles away on an island in rising seas.
The neighbourhood is a place of ... intrigue and emotional espionage, where when two people stop to talk on the street their tongues are like the two halves of a scissor coming together, cutting reputations and good names to shreds.
Nowhere in this country, from sea to sea, does nature comfort us with such assurance of plenty, such rich and tranquil beauty as in those unsung, unpainted hills of Pennsylvania.
When you visit a foreign city you are in it, but not of it, separated by a glass wall. Once, while a student, I was getting dressed in my ground-floor room when a family of Italians crossed the grass to watch, as if I were laid on for their amusement and instruction.
We are all neighbors. And we must love neighbors as ourselves.
mansion that sits upon a hill just outside the sleepy little
than the one outside where my shack
If I have a near-beer, I'm near beer. And if I'm near beer, I'm close to tequila. And if I'm close to tequila, I'm adjacent to cocaine.
Location pertains to feelings - feelings are bound up in place.
If you want to see the girl next door, go next door.
twenty miles of the sea. My
Sometimes you have to travel a long way to find what is near
Neighborhood is a word that has come to sound like a Valentine. As a sentimental concept, 'neighborhood' is harmful to city planning. It leads to attempts at warping city life into imitations of town or suburban life. Sentimentality plays with sweet intentions in place of good sense.
On the Jellicoe road
With spots of sunny openings, and with nooks To lie and read in, sloping into brooks.
them but the extremest limit of the land; loitering under
Roadway. We didn't stop at the house, but instead rounded the corner and stopped a block away. Stepping out and
The whole world is one neighborhood.
windowsill on the opposite side of the dining room. "What are you doing?
The way is an ill neighbour.
I just happened to be in the neighborhood, walking my dog ... " This was sounding lame. "Several miles from my home,in the middle of the night,in the snow.And I found myself in your backyard."
His eyes flew open. "With the cats?"
"If that's what you call them.
To the untraveled, territory other than their own familiar heath is invariably fascinating. Next to love it is the one thing that solaces and delights.
At a certain season of our life we are accustomed to consider every spot as the possible site of a house.
It's all about proximity.
outside the city. Fortunately for them,
Coming nearer and
That is where homeland is. In that shifting space, kinfolk know one another by secret signs; and wherever kinfolk meet, homeland soil coalesces about their feet in the mysterious way that coral cays, like seabirds pausing in flight, anchor themselves to the Barrier Reef.
In one of the Welsh counties is a small village called A
. It is somewhat removed from the high road, and is, therefore, but little known to those luxurious amateurs of the picturesque, who view nature through the windows of a carriage and four.
There's something horribly lonely about a place that's almost home. From
Outside, the north wind, coming and passing, swelling and dying, lifts the frozen sand drives it a-rattle against the lidless windows and we may dear sit stroking the cat stroking the cat and smiling sleepily, prrrr.
Whether the borders that divide us are picket fences or national boundaries, we are all neighbors in a global community.
The beauty of a house by the lake side in the middle of wilderness can best be appreciated not by those who permanently live in the house but by the travellers passing by!
On this side of the wall is our house; in our backyard there is nothing. Nothing but red dust and round-headed black ants streaming and one juicy banana trunk stabbed brown--jab jab jab--never dead. I am always looking over the wall for Tissa.
You can live for years next door to a big pine tree, honored to have so venerable a neighbor, even when it sheds needles all over your flowers or wakes you, dropping big cones onto your deck at still of night.
I know some lonely houses off the road
A robber'd like the look of,
Wooden barred,
And windows hanging low
Its just an inch from me to you, depending on what map you use.
Cadence, n.
I have never lived anywhere but New York or New England, but there are times when I'm talking to you and I hit a Southern vowel, or a word gets caught in a Suthern truncation, and I know it's because I'm swimming in your cadences, that you penetrate my very language.
My home ... It is my retreat and resting place from wars, I try to keep this corner as a haven against the tempest outside, as I do another corner in my soul.
The nearest inhabited village is about seven of your English miles to the left.
Moorcroft with a small pasture
Excuse me? Do you mind if I sit next to you? This spot has the best view of ... " I glanced out the window. "The ... gravel roof.
Believe that a further shore is reachable from here.
What is far is very close, and what is close is very far
If you are writing something, you automatically create a certain distance. It can be very little. Even within the same city you imaginatively have a certain distance from your subject, and at the same time, you have to have a connection.
Front of an open apartment
Neighbor to neighbor. It is a mentality that has been fostered over centuries, since the earliest settlers realized the only way to survive in this desolate but beautiful outpost was to work together. Much of their music captures this spirit.
I want you to be concerned about your next door neighbor. Do you know your next door neighbor?
A region where grey twilight ever descends, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars.
Where there are children, people become neighbors; they don't merely hold property adjacent to one another.
was one of those large, under-lit places that seemed to recede into shadow at the periphery, and in the murky middle
corner, an empty shell that is merely
At the North Carolina border, the dull landscape ended abruptly, as if by decree. Suddenly the countryside rose and fell in majestic undulations, full of creeping thickets of laurel, rhododendron and palmetto.
I live on the water. I live in a neighborhood that's consummately connected to my neighbors. I bump into them every day. I can bike to work.
I would never call a neighbor an enemy. But I would request the neighbor to be a good neighbor, to see that the neighbor's interest is a stable prosperous neighbor, a neighbor that is doing well.
It's the countryside. Perhaps this is our holiday home.
A good neighbor is a fellow who smiles at you over the back fence, but doesn't climb over it.
- just your basic girl next door, assuming your girl next door comes spring-loaded with seventeen ways to kill a man. Which implies a pretty interesting neighborhood that most people probably don't want to visit.
And now you live dispersed on ribbon roads, And no man knows or cares who is his neighbor Unless his neighbor makes too much disturbance, But all dash to and fro in motor cars, Familiar with the roads and settled nowhere.
Way over yonder is a place I have seen In a garden of wisdom from some long ago dream.
A neighborhood is where, when you go out of it, you get beat up.
California: bordering always on the Pacific and sometimes on the ridiculous. So, why do I live here? Because the sun goes down a block from my house.
Where there are no people, the nature shines in perfection. Remote nature is the real nature!
on a map: There itMap-- Amor Towles
I have just returned from a visit to my landlord - the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with.
It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York - and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land.
Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and longitudes.
I must not serve a distant neighbour at the expense of the nearest.
Our relationship with places is a close bond, intricate in nature, and not abstract, not remote at all: It's enveloping, almost a continuum with all we are and think.
Neighbors are the most indecent sort of folk around. Nothing but voyeurs and gossipers. As a community we would be much better off without them.
Prescott National Forest is right on the edge of my home in Arizona.
From a distance it is something; and nearby it is nothing.
Here is the door of my mom's house, well-remembered childhood portal. Here is the yard, and a set of wires that runs from the house to a wooden pole, and some fat birds sitting together on the wires, five of them lined up like beads on an abacus.
Borders may divide us, but, paradoxically, they're also the places where we're nearest to one another.
This Side of Paradise
What else is a nation but a patchwork of cities and towns; cities and towns a patchwork of neighborhoods; and neighborhoods a patchwork of homes?
Somewhere nere Ogallala, about six hours into that majestic, maddening prairie, I realize that half an hour has passed since I've seen a vehicle in either direction.
Oh, I think, as I finally see a pair of headlights draw nigh in the eastbound lane, so this must be where the West begins.
That's not in my yard.
A] One is in a different place, so the protective barriers no longer exist. To begin with this can be alarming, but soon one gets used to it and starts understanding how many interesting things there are beyond the walls of one's garden.
Northern San Diego. The white stucco walls rose, interrupted by huge windows. The whole structure nearly floated off the pavement, sleek, modern, and somehow light, almost delicate. The salt-spiced wind blowing from the coast less than a mile away only strengthened the illusion. He'd
It could be said that just about anyone we encounter is our neighbor, but it especially applies to those we would be least likely to love.
I sit at my desk
each night with no place to go,
opening the wrinkled maps of Milwaukee and Buffalo,
the whole U.S.,
its cemeteries, its arbitrary time zones,
through routes like small veins, capitals like small stones.
with thick stone walls and high, slitted
Beyond the window was the parking lot and beyond that the desert, and beyond that the sky, mostly void, partially stars. Layered
So here we are once more in the wilds, and once more we've come upon some out of the way corner. But what a wilderness, and what an out of the way corner!
Have you ever been further away than yourself? Where?-- Sorin Cerin
Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses.
Someone once asked me if I had a favorite distance. My answer was easy: the closer the better.
thousand miles away and
The tremendous secrecy of alleys between houses
CEMETERY, n. An isolated suburban spot where mourners match lies, poets write at a target and stone-cutters spell for a wager.
Their suburbia house in Brentwood was how she referred to the house when we bought it, a twelve-year-old establishing that it was not her decision, not her taste, a child claiming the distance all children imagine themselves to need.