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“Aloof, as if looking through thick glass into an aquarium, she watched faces, fruit in storewindows, cans of vegetables, jars of olives, redhotpokerplants in a florist's, newspapers, electric signs drifting by. When they passed cross-streets a puff of air came in her face off the river. Sudden jetbright glances of eyes under straw hats, attitudes of chins, thick lips, pouting lips, Cupid's bows, hungry shadow under cheekbones, faces of girls and young men nuzzled fluttering against her like moths as she walked with her stride even to his through the tingling yellow night.”
― John Dos Passos, Manhattan Transfer

“Dogs cocked their legs on anything perpendicular, carriages clopped and growled along the cobblestones, and all with the prevailing aroma of rancid fish quietly melding the confusion together...”
― Martin R Jackson : Running with Finn McCool