Quotes about California

But there is no McTheory when it comes to persuasion. There is no such thing as McApologetics, though it is significant that the nearest one-size-fits-all approach—the Four Spiritual Laws—was also created at the same time and in the same place as the first flourishing of McDonald's as we know it and the first theme park run by Walt Disney: 1950s California.

I'm really all about clean eating, lots of fruits and vegetables. It's great, because in California, there are so many farmers' markets, so I always have plenty of fresh produce.

I was a trial lawyer. At the same time, I was a teacher. I taught about the political and social content of film for American University. Then I left and became a teacher at the University of California at Santa Cruz. I taught about the political and social content of film, but I also taught a course in law for undergraduates.

There's no question we need more housing, and we have to fight for that throughout California.

Best way to live in California is to be from somewheres else. Probably the best way is to be from Mars.

We need to incorporate that age-old concept of redemption into the work that we do in the criminal justice system in California.

I've been so thoroughly incorporated into the California culture that I practice meditation and go to a therapist, even though I always set a trap: during my meditation I invent stories to keep from being bored, and in therapy I invent stories to keep from boring the psychologist.

And before me was the great raw bulge and bulk of my American continent; somewhat far across, gloomy, crazy New York was throwing up its cloud of dust and brown steam. There is something brown and holy about the East; and California is white like washlines and emptyheaded - at least that's what I thought then.

I suddenly realized I was in California. Warm, palmy air - air you can kiss - and palms.

I love the way everybody says "LA" on the Coast; it's their one and only golden town when all is said and done.

We wandered around, carrying our bundles of rags in the narrow romantic streets. Everybody looked like a broken-down movie extra, a withered starlet; disenchanted stunt-men, midget auto-racers, poignant California characters with their end-of-the-continent sadness, handsome, decadent, Casanova-ish men, puffy-eyed motel blondes, hustlers, pimps, whores, masseurs, bellhops—a lemon lot, and how's a man going to make a living with a gang like that?

There's a group of 12 oak trees on my property in California that I call 'my disciples.' Their branches form a canopy over the ground, and I sit underneath them for inspiration.