( Herbert Eugene Caen April 3, 1916 – February 1, 1997) was a Pulitzer Prize-winning newspaper columnist working in San Francisco.
Attributed [ edit ]
Isn't it nice that people who prefer Los Angeles to San Francisco live there?
The trouble with born-again Christians is that they are an even bigger pain the second time around.
If I do go to heaven, I'm going to do what every San Franciscan does who goes to heaven. He looks around and says, 'It ain't bad, but it ain't San Francisco.'
Martinis are like breasts, one isn't enough, and three is too many.
The only thing wrong with immortality is that it tends to go on forever, but what's wrong with that, really?
Herb Caen's San Francisco, 1976-1991, page 159. Chronicle Books, 1992. ISBN
Cockroaches and socialites are the only things that can stay up all night and eat anything.
I tend to live in the past because most of my life is there.
A man begins cutting his wisdom teeth the first time he bites off more than he can chew.
Parking is such street sorrow.
A city is where you can sign a petition, boo the chief justice, fish off a pier, gaze at a hippopotamus, buy a flower at the corner, or get a good hamburger or a bad girl at 4 a.m. A city is where sirens make white streaks of sound in the sky and foghorns speak in dark grays. San Francisco is such a city.
External links [ edit ]