Herbert Eugene "Herb" Caen (April 3, 1916 – February 2, 1997) was a San Francisco journalist whose daily column of local goings-on and insider gossip, social and political happenings, painful puns and offbeat anecdotes— "a continuous love letter to San Francisco"— appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle for almost 60 years (excepting a brief defection to the San Francisco Examiner), and made him a household name throughout the San Francisco Bay Area. (Click here for full Wikipedia article)
A cable car may be the last surviving piece of public transportation that is still fun to ride.
A city is a crazy concrete jungle whose people at the end of each day somehow make a small step ahead against terrible odds.
A city is not gauged by its length and width, but by the broadness of its vision and the height of its dreams.
A man begins cutting his wisdom teeth the first time he bites off more than he can chew.
All American cars are basically Chevrolets.
Americans are pragmatic, relatively uncomplicated, hearty and given to broad humor.
Cockroaches and socialites are the only things that can stay up all night and eat anything.
I have a memory like an elephant. I remember every elephant I've ever met.
I ride Muni to get closer to The People, who I wish would get closer to deodorants.
I tend to live in the past because most of my life is there.
Isn't it nice that people who prefer Los Angeles to San Francisco live there?
Logic is no answer to passion.
Martinis are like breasts, one isn't enough, and three is too many.
New Yorkers are stuck in a gloomy mucilage of mutual commiseration.
Satire of satire tends to be self-canceling, and deliberate shock tactics soon lose their ability to shock, especially when they're too deliberate.
Spring training! One of the nicest two-word phrases in the language, along with 'check enclosed,' 'open bar,' and 'class dismissed.'
The only thing wrong with immortality is that it tends to go on forever.
The trouble with born-again Christians is that they are an even bigger pain the second time around.
The world of Manhattan is small and tightly knit, and the man on top retains a certain humility. He knows how far and fast he can fall by looking at the guy across the street. The view from the $250,000 apartment covers a lot of ground, most of it condemned.
There are more of them than us.
When a place advertises itself as 'World Famous,' you may be sure it isn't.