Richmond District, San Francisco

Richmond District, San Francisco

Coordinates: 37°46.68′N 122°28.98′W / 37.778°N 122.483°W / 37.778; -122.483

The Richmond District is a neighborhood in the northwest corner of San Francisco, Californial, developed initially in the late 19th century. It is sandwiched between Presidio of San Francisco (north) and Golden Gate Park (south) It is sometimes confused with Richmond, a city 20 miles (32 km) north of San Francisco.

Read more about Richmond District, San Francisco:  Location, Name, History, Streets, Architecture, Parks and Recreation, Education

Famous quotes containing the words san francisco, richmond, san and/or francisco:

    Mining today is an affair of mathematics, of finance, of the latest in engineering skill. Cautious men behind polished desks in San Francisco figure out in advance the amount of metal to a cubic yard, the number of yards washed a day, the cost of each operation. They have no need of grubstakes.
    Merle Colby, U.S. public relief program (1935-1943)

    I get a little Verlaine
    for Patsy with drawings by Bonnard although I do
    think of Hesiod, trans. Richmond Lattimore or
    Brendan Behan’s new play or Le Balcon or Les Negres
    of Genet, but I don’t, I stick with Verlaine
    after practically going to sleep with quandariness
    Frank O’Hara (1926–1966)

    Mining today is an affair of mathematics, of finance, of the latest in engineering skill. Cautious men behind polished desks in San Francisco figure out in advance the amount of metal to a cubic yard, the number of yards washed a day, the cost of each operation. They have no need of grubstakes.
    Merle Colby, U.S. public relief program (1935-1943)

    Swan/Mary Rutledge: Oh no, no. I’m not running away. I came here to get something, and I’m going to get it.
    Col. Cobb: Yes, but San Francisco is no place for a woman.
    Swan: Why not? I’m not afraid. I like the fog. I like this new world. I like the noise of something happening.... I’m tired of dreaming, Colonel Cobb. I’m staying. I’m staying and holding out my hands for gold—bright, yellow gold.
    Ben Hecht (1893–1964)