Some things I like...

I really like when intersecting sidewalks don't meet at the outermost edge of the corner.  It's something you only see on old streets, typically when the walk itself is narrow, rumpled with 20 years of jostling tree roots, and befriended by grass on both sides.  Somehow, taking those extra two steps into the block before you turn to cross the street feels like a microcosm of nostalgic small-town life.  Back when people had the time and the openness to connect even with the unimportant and the fleeting.  They didn't perch on the extreme-most edge of a sea of impersonal concrete, nearer the passing cars than any human contact or living thing.  Maybe it's a lot to read in to a street corner, but it's what I felt tonight walking home.

and then imagine an intersecting sidewalk equally set in to the block

I like The Lizzie Bennet Diaries.  I could probably even say I'm more than a little obsessed with them just now.   They're brilliant and clever and unbelievably well-made.  You can feel and see and otherwise experience all the effort and care that went into them at every turn.  And they made Pride and Prejudice feel like a fresh, new story, which is no small achievement.  I deeply wish there was someone I could discuss them with in the nauseatingly analytic detail I love so much.

please everyone go experience this project.  Google "the lizzie bennet diaries"

I like brick buildings, particularly homes and schools.  There is a comfortable elegance to brick that is unique.  Brick-built schools typically avoid that prison look of so many schools built out of more contemporary mediums.  Brick houses feel warm and inviting and...settled.  It's a beautiful material.

When I go out walking at night it is usually very late.  I love how quiet the city gets and how many secret details, usually masked by the busyness of daylight, you can discover.  But I also like walking in the early evening.  Unlike late night walking, you still hear the noises of people, but the sounds are calmer, homier, and more personal than daytime sounds.

I like the feeling of solitude surrounded by communal strangers.  To be aloof, sitting alone at a table, while still engaging in the loosest possible network of unknown people who shared your thought to come to this specific place is a very particular kind of experience that is worth having and paying attention to.  Historically, giving one's hospitality and the act of eating together created a bond of peace that was nearly sacred.  I think society retains the slightest vestige of that mentality today in a subconscious kinship with those around us in a public place like a restaurant.  Or perhaps that is just me.

alone at a table somewhere in that group

And finally, I like this sentence:

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition."

I like that sentence more than I can say and maybe more than it deserves, coming from a cheesy horror show on The CW.  However, regardless of its origins and despite having rather a more Protestant flavor than many Mormons are comfortable with, it feels like the most perfect answer that was ever given to the question "Who is God?".  And as a bonus, it is a phenomenally well-crafted sentence; it is in perfect trochaic meter, it has a beautiful and evocative linguistic flow, and the word choice is just unusual enough to catch your attention without crossing the line into pretentiousness and distracting you from the overall impact of the idea.