London, with its monotonous and melancholy houses, seems like an inharmonious patchwork, as if pieced together without design. Yet it is lovable in its sprawling confusion.

Joseph Fort Newton (1876-1950), Preaching in London: A Diary of Anglo-American Friendship

Respirator, n. An apparatus fitted over the nose and mouth of an inhabitant of London, whereby to filter the visible universe in its passage to the lungs.

Ambrose Bierce (1843-1914), The Devil’s Dictionary

London’s like one of the flash women at Frisco – fine to look at, cruel as the snow.

Joseph Hatton (1837-1907), Cruel London

So large is the Extent of London, Westminster and Southwark, with their Suburbs and Liberties, that no Coachman nor Porter knows every Place in them.

William I Stow (1696 – 1731), Remarks on London, 1722

London always reminds me of a brain. It is similarly convoluted and circuitous. A lot of cities, especially American ones like New York and Chicago, are laid out in straight lines. Like the circuits on computer chips, there are a lot of right angles in cities like this. But London is a glorious mess. It evolved from a score or so of distinct villages, that merged and meshed as their boundaries enlarged. As a result, London is a labyrinth, full of turnings and twistings just like a brain.

James Geary (b.1962), On London, All Aphorisms, All the Time