Venice is eternity itself.
I love Boston; it's like Paris.
Venice seemed incredibly lovely, elvishly lovely--to me like a dream of Old Gondor, or Pelargir of the Numenorean Ships, before the return of the Shadow.
Paris is mostly retired people - I love it, and it's a beautiful city, but it's quite slow.
I love Paris, but it's not a city I would like to live in. It's one of my favorite cities but just in small doses.
Paris is wild; it's decadent... it's so many things.
Paris is an unsolved puzzle. She inspires me in a way that other places don't. And she demands more of me. Just try to write about her without bumping into cliche after cliche.
Paris just exudes love and romance and, for me personally, hope and joy and faith, too; it just means so much to me. That place made me feel so happy and so safe, and my spirit was just so full of joy.
Paris is certainly one of the most boastful of cities, and you could argue that it has had a lot to boast about: at various times the European centre of power, of civilisation, of the arts, and (self-advertisingly, at least) of love.
