Jascollins

“It was a city in which the very old and the awkwardly new jostled each other, not uncomfortably, but without respect; a city of shops and offices and restaurants and homes, of parks and churches, of ignored monuments and remarkably unpalatial palaces; a city of hundreds of districts with strange names—Crouch End, Chalk Farm, Earl’s Court, Marble Arch—and oddly distinct identities; a noisy, dirty, cheerful, troubled city, which fed on tourists, needed them as it despised them, in which the average speed of transportation through the city had not increased in three hundred years, following five hundred years of fitful road-widening and unskillful compromises between the needs of traffic, whether horse-drawn, or, more recently, motorized, and the needs of pedestrians; a city inhabited by and teeming with people of every color and manner and kind.”
― Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere

“that was okay. Nice food. And no one was trying to kill us.” “I’m sure that will remedy itself as the day goes on,” said Hunter, accurately.”
― Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere

“Inside the pub, Richard's friends continued to celebrate his forthcoming departure with an enthusiasm that, to Richard, was beginning to border on the sinister.”
― Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere

“Richard paused for a moment. If ever, he decided, they made disorganization an Olympic sport, he could be disorganized for Britain.”
― Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere