Long Island City (L.I.C.) is the westernmost neighborhood of the New York City borough of Queens. L.I.C. is notable for its rapid and ongoing gentrification, its waterfront parks, and its thriving arts community. L.I.C. has among the highest concentration of art galleries, art institutions, and studio space of any neighborhood in New York City. The neighborhood is bounded on the north by the Queens neighborhood of Astoria; on the west by the East River; on the east by Hazen Street, 31st Street, and New Calvary Cemetery; and on the south by Newtown Creek, which separates Queens from Greenpoint, Brooklyn. It originally was the seat of government of Newtown Township, and remains the largest neighborhood in Queens. The area is part of Queens Community Board 1 north of the Queensboro (59th Street) Bridge and Queens Community Board 2 south of the Bridge. In 2007, the neighborhood is home to 25,595 people. The racial makeup is 51.1% Hispanic, 21.3% Asian, 16.1% Black, and 11.2% white.
Read more about Long Island City: History, Geography, Commercial History and Notable Buildings, Economy, Transportation, Education, Notable Past and Present Residents
Famous quotes containing the words long, island and/or city:
“The dignity of the artist lies in his duty of keeping awake the sense of wonder in the world. In this long vigil he often has to vary his methods of stimulation; but in this long vigil he is also himself striving against a continual tendency to sleep.”
—Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874–1936)
“The very best place to be in all the world is St. Mary’s parish, Jamaica. And the best spot in St. Mary’s is Port Maria, though all of St. Mary’s is fine. Old Maker put himself to a lot of trouble to make that part of the island of Jamaica, for everything there is perfect.”
—Zora Neale Hurston (1891–1960)
“The city is loveliest when the sweet death racket begins. Her own life lived in defiance of nature, her electricity, her frigidaires, her soundproof walls, the glint of lacquered nails, the plumes that wave across the corrugated sky. Here in the coffin depths grow the everlasting flowers sent by telegraph.”
—Henry Miller (1891–1980)