Quotes About Streets

When I was 20, I was the hustler - rubbing my temples, stressed, trying to get out the streets, trying to take my life to another side of the game with something I really loved to do: rap music.

Family life was wonderful. The streets were bleak. The playgrounds were bleak. But home was always warm. My mother and father had a great relationship. I always felt 'safe' there.

The sex trade was a lot like the drug trade; everyone wanted to raze the low-income housing where the drugs were sold but ignored the BMWs and Mercedes driving down the streets with $100 bills hanging out the windows.

This was the hour when he found London most lovable; the working day over, her pub windows were warm and jewel-like, her streets thrummed with life, and the indefatigable permanence of her aged buildings, softened by the street lights, became strangely reassuring.

However much Grant enjoyed his Parisian rambles and glimpses of quotidian life, he was mystified about the charms American expatriates found there. I have walked over the city so thoroughly that the streets are quite familiar to me, he told Buck, his provincial roots showing. The city is beautiful, but I do not see the inducements for so many Americans remaining here year after year who are not engaged in business. I certainly should prefer any of our large cities as a residence.p871

We crossed the Avenue Bosquet against the light and then we made an arbitrary left into the Rue Jean Nicot. Joe stopped at a tabac and bought cigarettes. I would have smiled if I had been able to. The street was named after the guy who discovered nicotine.

Then the city went silent and took a breath and shiny darkness owned the streets. That was Reacher's time. He liked to picture the sleeping people stacked twelve, thirty, fifty stories high, often head to head with perfect strangers on opposite sides of thin apartment walls, deep in slumber, unaware of the tall quiet man striding beneath them in the shadows.

Paris was dark and damp and cold and quiet. Cafés and restaurants had warm lights burning behind closed doors and fogged windows. The streets were wet and lined with small parked cars. The cars were all misted over with nighttime dew. We walked together south and west and crossed the Seine at the Pont de la Concorde. Turned west again along the Quai d'Orsay. The river was dark and sluggish. Nothing was moving on it. The streets were empty. Nobody was out and about.

But not your average mall—Paseo Nuevo has terra-cotta roofs and cobbled streets and sidewalk cafés. And Aveda and Nordstrom and all the other regulars

In one extremely satisfactory dream I was the rain and fell with merry violence on streets and asphalt rooftops...

away from the window and the night descending upon Bakersville's streets.

It seems to me the mark of a civilized society that certain privileges should be taken for granted such as education, health care and the safety to walk the streets.

I am sad, like the hot dust on the streetsAnd the music of fresh fallen leavesCaught in a sliding summer breeze.

This was a townscape raised in the teeth of cold winds from the east; a city of winding cobbled streets and haughty pillars; a city of dark nights and candlelight, and intellect.

You might imagine that the magic stopped at the airport, and to a great extent it did. When we arrived back in London, the skies were overcast and heavy. The bus driver from the airport was morose and unkempt; the streets seemed run-down and dirty, the people sour-faced. But that, I suspect, is how coming home is for everyone; Parisians probably felt the same when they returned from somewhere else.

I always think about the streets because that's where I come from and that's where I'm going to die one day. That is my life.

We have assembled inside this ancient / and insane theatre / To propagate our lust for life / and flee the swarming wisdom / of the streets

Time remorselessly rambles down the corridors and streets of our lives. but it is not until autumn that most of us become aware that our tickets are stamped with a terminal destination.

You're growing up. And rain sort of remains on the branches of a tree that will someday rule the Earth. And it's good that there is rain. It clears the month of your sorry rainbow expressions, and it clears the streets of the silent armies... so we can dance.

So clear off the streets when the sun goes down because darkness has always been hers, it's where she's lived all her life and she can see in the dark, cry in the dark, eat and love and hurt in the dark, it's hers and it's all we gave her, so when she catches us there in it, she doesn't give a shit who we are, what color we are, she'll bring it to us, make us feel a little of the darkness she's felt and lived in all her life.

We been in the streets protesting for years about police brutality.

A returned battalion of the National Guard paraded through the streets with open ranks for their dead and then stepped down out of romance forever and sold you things over the counters of local stores.

I like these streets,' observed Anthony aloud. 'I always feel as though it's a performance being staged for me; as though the second I've passed they'll all stop leaping and laughing and, instead, grow very sad, remembering how poor they are, and retreat with bowed heads into their houses. You often get that effect abroad, but seldom in this country.

All of them began to laugh spontaneously because they knew it was still last night while the people in the streets had the delusion that it was bright hot morning.