Quotes About Streets

When nightDarkens the streets, then wander forth the sonsOf Belial, flown with insolence and wine.

God's passion to be glorified and our passion to be satisfied are one experience in the Christ-exalting act of worship—singing in the sanctuary and suffering in the streets.

Maybe I could love you. But I wont. The grinding streets awaited me.

Something like lust, something like hatred, seems to hover in the air along the country roads, shifting like mist or steam, but always there, gripping the city streets like fog, making every corner a dangerous corner.

I come out of streets where life itself--life itself!--depends on timing more infinitesimal than the split second, where apprehension must be swifter than the speed of light.

Half of Paris sleeps amidst the putrid exhalations of courts and streets and sewers.

Who speaks? It is her voice, in my head. I fear it will not stop until I stop. It talks to me as I haul myself along these cobbled streets, telling me things I do not want to hear. Sometimes I answer, protest aloud, demanding to be left in peace.

The fifties was the last great age of queerdom. All the talk now is of freedom and pride (pride!), but there young hotheads in their pink bell-bottoms, clamouring for the right to do it in the streets if they feel like it, do not seem to appreciate, or at least seem to wish to deny, the aphrodisiac properties of secrecy and fear.

Habría dado cualquier cosa por pasear por una de esas típicas calles londinenses, con casas de sucios ladrillos amarillos a los lados, altas casas pareadas con un tramo de escalones hasta la puerta y barandillas y verjas de hierro que parecen enjaular unos arbustos ralos y desgreñados, y, de vez en cuando, un gato dormido en un alféizar.

In a town like London there are always plenty of not quite certifiable lunatics walking the streets, and they tend to gravitate towards bookshops, because a bookshop is one of the few places where you can hang about for a long time without spending any money.

The centuries of capitalism were held to have produced nothing of value. One could not learn history from architecture any more than one could learn it from books. Statues, inscriptions, memorial stones, the names of streets-anything that might throw light upon the past had been systemically altered.

Once could not learn history from architecture any more than once could learn it from books. Statues, inscriptions, memorial stones, the names of streets – anything that might throw light upon the past had been systematically altered.

For the first week of the Sian events I was a first aid worker in the streets of Sian.

The later it gets the more disturbed the city becomes. I go with Albert through the streets. Men are standing in groups at every corner. Rumours are flying. It is said that the military have already fired on a procession of demonstrating workers.

The alt-right is working hard to cloak its desire to create chaos in the streets as free speech. They say they want to air their views, but it's about provoking violent reactions. We all can easily see that this is not about free speech.

Amsterdam. It is so cute and quaint. I rode bicycles around the city and through the tiny little streets, rented a paddleboat and had a picnic lunch on the canals.

There's some basic ideals that we should be able to agree on as Americans: We don't tolerate violence on our streets.

If you lived in a city for long enough, the streets and the places where life happens fold inwards, like paper, making space for new memories. Yet visiting old haunts and a long forgotten road was like stretching the concertina out again - the memories leap out, fresh as the day you folded them away.

She loved these walks through London. She seemed, as she made them, to become porous, to soak in detail after detail; or else, like a battery to become charged. Yes, that was it, she thought, as she turned a corner: it wasn't a liquid creeping, it was a tingle, something electric, something produced as if by the friction of her shoes against the streets. She was at her truest, it seemed to her, in these tingling moments.

She loved these walks through London. She seemed, as she made them, to become porous, to soak in detail after detail; or else, like a battery, to become charged. Yes, that was it, she thought, as she turned a corner: it wasn't a liquid creeping, it was a tingle, something electric, something produced as if by the friction of her shoes against the streets. She was at her truest, it seemed to her, in these tingling moments—these moments when, paradoxically

i am like a survivor of the flood walking through the streets drenched with God surprised that all of the drowned victims are still walking and talking

Everybody was wary. This was a time when communists marched through the streets, waving flags and shouting. The unions did the same thing so you began to associate them.

I remember a day and time when the streets indicated what was hot online, and now I think it's starting to reverse a little bit.

[I]n the gloomy month of February.... The Deserts of Arabia are not more dreary and inhospitable than the streets of London at such a time.