"Help Fight The Grip. — How Not To Get It: Get fresh air and sunshine. Avoid crowded places, especially cars. Keep away from sneezers and coughers. Don't visit people!!! with colds. Keep your mouth and teeth clean. Protect the body by proper clothing. Avoid exposure by sudden changes. Avoid worry and and fatigue. How Not to Give It: Stay at home on the first indication of a cold. Don't receive visitors while sick or recovering. Don't leave your home until all symptoms have gone. Don't sneeze, spit or cough in public places. Don't hesitate to complain against careless spitters and coughers. — The State Department of Health and the Connecticut State Council of Defense urge you to DO YOUR BIT TO STOP THE GRIP."
"The history of these signs begins at the corner of College and Chapel, the city's heart. Here, New Haven thrives. Yale's faux-Gothic buildings share sidewalks with the brand name stores that feed off the University's economic power. The New Haven Green and the locally famous Claire's Corner Copia bustle with activity. At the corner, a name famous not only in New Haven, but around the world, presides over the downtown landscape — Bishop Desmond Tutu."
"Jean-Michel's paintings contain spiraling active forces, and these forces are a constant. One force is script. Nothing makes him more righteously angry than to get this question, 'Tell me about your graffiti.' What Jean-Michel did was not graffiti. There were statements, there were epigrams, and he wanted you to see them so he wrote it out always in capital letters. That is one current always flowing."
"'One night, it was almost closing time and a dude grabbed the conga then started chanting: ‘Aguacero de mayo [‘May showers’].’ I wrote: ‘Perhaps this has reference to the religions in Cuba.’ Cut thirty years to 1985: I’ve been assigned to interview Toni Morrison, who said, ‘My mama said you should jump out in the first showers in May’—and I froze. Lydia Cabrera, the queen of Afro-Cuban anthropology, wrote: When you prepare the prenda, the Kongo charm, one ingredient may be rain from the first showers in May; it comes direct from God.'"
"Parts of these chapters were written on the tables of Jean Michel Gamme and Jean-Pierre Vuillermet's Union League Cafe in New Haven. I was equally welcome to write at Caffe Adulis, where the three Eritrean brother-owners — Sahle, Fiere, and Gideon Ghebreyesus — even went so far as to twist dials to cast extra light on my table. Similar courtesies were extended by Jeff Horton at Scoozie's Restaurant and John Clark at Zinc. All of these restaurants are in New Haven."
"'Rap has really begun to get around the mainstream culture,' said Robert Farris Thompson, a professor of African and Afro-American art history at Yale University. Hip-hop words from what was once an underclass subculture are now common parlance among America's youth. 'Rappers are persons of words, and those words are getting into the language,' said Professor Thompson."
"The atmosphere of a university is the subtle creation of its history, traditions, and surroundings, and is an element as vital as its more tangible properties. If, as Syrus says, 'Discipulus est priori posterior dies,' antiquity is a factor in its influence which neither wealth nor equipment nor even a high order of instruction can supersede. If we wish to take a true estimate of the genius of the institution, we must consider the character of the men who attended its birth and impressed themselves upon its youth, the molding force of the events through which it has passed, and the ideals toward which it has always striven."
"The ironmonger opposite South College uses his front yard to advertise his wares. On the door-steps is a pair of 'portal-warding lion-whelps.' On one side of the walk is a deer with liver-colored mottlings, and on the other a realistic Newfoundland dog. In the center of the right-hand grass plot is a bathukolpos sphinx on a pedestal, and in the centre of the left-hand plot an ornamented fountain with goldfish. On the edge of the basin squats a large green frog."
"Time and tempest felled it at last; but it blooms here in marble still, its name is preserved throughout the city as the distinguishing mark of divers stores, shops, and companies; and a pretty marble slab, like a grave stone, in Charter Oak Place inadequately marks where the original flourished until 1856. In Bushnell Park (named after that eminent theologian, the late Dr. Horace Bushnell, who was the chief promoter of this public pleasure ground) there is a couple of Charter Oaks junior, sprung from its fruit; and 'certified' acorns, possibly taken from these younger trees, but supposed to have grown upon the parent, have been worth their weight in gold at charity fairs. Across the Connecticut, leading to East Hartford, stretches a covered bridge one thousand feet long, and taking up in its construction a corresponding quantity of timber. Mark Twain, showing some friends about, told them that bridge also was built of wood from the Charter Oak."