Top 44 Bristol Quotes

My fans are great and amazing, but there’s no way all of my fans are going to be able to fill up Bristol Motor Speedway.

When I was a reporter in Bristol, which I was between the years 1954 and 1960, the newspaper would get tickets for whoever showed up to play a gig at the big hall down the road, so I saw some wonderful people. The Everly Brothers, for example.

‘Skins’ is about a group of teenagers in Bristol, and it’s all about what they get up to and all the different things they do. I think it’s a good show because it’s come from a very real place, and there’s a lot of young people involved in the writing.

My son is a lecturer at Bristol University in anthropology. His degree was in, get this, human mating strategies – sex!

I’d love to be part Apache Indian. But I’m from Bristol. No Apaches there mate.

The tides which flow and lapse in the Bristol Channel are often distained by the freshets of many streams falling through wooded coombes below the moor.

Drama at Bristol was an academic course: you were judged on your A-levels, and there were no auditions. I did a BA General degree.

When someone tells me they’ve never been to a race, I tell them that the first one they should go to is Bristol, Tennesee. The shape of the track, the energy, and excitement under the lights is similar to what you might get at a stick-and-ball game in college football or the NFL.

I was effectively unemployed after my son was born. I resigned from Bristol because I wasn’t happy with the way my career was going then discovered I was pregnant when I was out of a job, but I was freelancing.

Every year, tens of millions of salmon return to the pristine shores of Bristol Bay in Alaska. They linger in the bay’s cool, shallow waters before charging up nearby streams to spawn and create another generation of wild salmon.

I love Parisian hotels. I usually stay in either Le Bristol, which is gorgeous, or Hotel Paris Rivoli, which is very French and feels like a step back in time. I also love the luxury of Waldorf Astoria hotels.

We are a rugby family really. My dad and both granddads played rugby. Dad was good, on his way to Bath until he broke his leg. My brother Harry got an invitation to go and play for Bristol. I go and watch Sale Sharks and have been to Twickenham a few times.

For me, the dilemma is I love Bristol, but you can only do that for so long and not get it back. It’s been something that’s been hard for me to accept. It breaks my heart.

I will tell you, I don’t miss me and Bristol fighting, but coming home to an empty house every other week, you walk in there, and it’s a reminder of the failure of the marriage.

As soon as I stepped into Bristol City, I felt like I was really welcomed very well, and I felt that from the very beginning.

The Bristol Channel was always my guide, and I was always able to draw an imaginary line from my bed to our house over in Wales. It was a great comfort.

I had to leave school at 14 because my father got injured in the mines and I had to support my family. I was an undertaker’s assistant, then a plasterer, before doing my military service in the RAF. All the while, I was doing amateur dramatics and dreaming of getting a scholarship to the Bristol Old Vic Theatre School.

The standard Bristol set at being a mother is high for a woman to have to step into. She, as a mom, is crushing it.

The game shapes you. I played for 20 years at all levels, apart from the Premier League. I had a disaster at Bristol City, where in two years I learnt more about myself, the industry, fans, how you get treated, than I ever learnt in my career.

I just felt that I might to go to university and get some real life. It wasn’t stimulating in the same way. I loved being at Bristol, but I missed the thrill of being on set.

I saw a band called The Electric Guitars, from Bristol. I described them to Roland, and he just started playing a riff on guitar and said, ‘Do they sound like this?’ And they did.

It’s funny because when you’re a Welshman living in England, you always get the mickey taken out of you for being Welsh, and then when you go to Wales with an English accent because you were born in Bristol and grew up in Birmingham, they say you’re English. You can never win.

I grew up in Bristol, R.I. I had grandparents and great-grandparents nearby, and because I was the only grandchild until I was 12, I was the center of a lot of adult attention.

For 10 years while I was at ESPN, I lived at the Residence Inn in Southington, Connecticut, near Bristol. I did that because my wife had a great job in New York City, and we had a place in New York City, at 54th and 8th. On Friday, I would come back, and then on Sunday evening I would go back to the Residence Inn.

I really love New York, but I have to say, the humidity during the summer is a nightmare for a cartoonist. Not only am I sweating in my studio, my bristol board is curling up, the drafting tape is peeling off the board, my Rapidograph pens bleed the minute I put them to paper… it’s a disaster.

If I’d lived in Bristol, I’d probably be doing building site stuff, plastering. Probably not the plastering. It would have been mixing. I could always get work from friends who did construction. But I wasn’t into getting up at seven in the morning.

Bristol is known for having quite a good success rate of music – Massive Attack and Portishead, that drum and bass, dance music scene. I never listened to that stuff when I was a kid, but my parents did, and my parents knew some of those people.

There are wonderful things happening all around the world. From Nova Scotia to Kerala, Bristol to Melbourne, and even in the Philippines, zero waste is on the agenda. I think what’s particularly inspiring is when communities don’t wait to be told what to do but just go ahead and do it.

I travel a lot with work… to and from Cornwall and Bristol, so I find myself on lots of trains.

In my final year at Bristol University, I wrote a play called ‘White Feathers.’ It was produced in the studio theatre at the students’ union in early 1999, when I was 21. It’s 100 pages long: a very traditional play, with an interval, about deserters in the First World War.

The house I grew up in was a tall Victorian town house in Bristol. There were very big rooms, which were under-furnished and always cold.

At Bristol I found it quite difficult to continue trying to balance three things – teaching, research and public engagement, for which television was obviously the most prominent part.

I had a complicated life until I was 25. I was born in Bristol and was brought up by my mum and my stepfather in Edinburgh. He introduced me to books.

I never thought I would ever win a Daytona 500. I never thought we would sweep Bristol. I just never thought any of that stuff was going to happen or be possible.

I think Isambard Kingdom Brunel would be a good chap to have supper with. Anyone who builds a railway and then builds a steamship when he gets to Bristol and can’t go any further must be a good chap.

Yes, I was a parish priest for five years. I was a curate in a large working class parish in Bristol and the Vicar of a village in Kent.

When I left Bristol City for Palace, I just wanted to be playing football. I didn’t care about the money I was getting or anything. I just wanted to play because I’ve always been like that, that’s just my character.

I do speak to a few people in non-league. There are a few people in Bristol where my family is based that I used to play with at Yate.

That’s how I lived for 10 years in Bristol after graduating. I just stayed in my student flat and paid very little rent. It was lovely, and part of me still misses that very lazy lifestyle. I was known as the magician on the street, and I used to dress a little eccentrically in a cloak.

I grew up in a little town between Bath and Bristol with my parents and grandparents in the same house. It was rural and idyllic.

In January 1962, when I was the author of one and a half unperformed plays, I attended a student production of ‘The Birthday Party’ at the Victoria Rooms in Bristol. Just before it began, I realised that Harold Pinter was sitting in front of me.

I was never part of the Bristol scene. My sound was a Knowle West sound. Massive Attack wouldn’t come to my area because they know they’d have got beaten up there.

All the serious bands, all the punks, came from Bristol.

I grew up in a mixed-race family in Bristol. My cousin was this white guy who was interested in Parliament, Marc Bolan, Bowie. His friends were football thugs and while I was getting ready for bed, they’d be listening to all that music. When I was older, I’d go to a Jamaican sound system and there were no white people.