Quotes About Street

Mexico scares me. There's no law, there's wild dogs and people driving their ATVs down the street. I like to know I can walk down the street and not be arrested for something dumb and have to pay to get my way out.

Januzaj is someone a bit like Origi, there's no pressure and he plays like he's on the street.

And we'd had this stupid scene on the street, and even that was kind of cool, because sometimes it's moments like that, real complicated moments, absorbing moments, that make you realize that even hard times have things in them that make you feel alive.

There were traces of history everywhere—in street names, on inn signs, in old tracks and ancient hedgerows, buried walls and tumbled gravestones. Scratch the surface and it was there.

I left the library. Crossing the street, I was hit head-on by a brutal loneliness. I felt dark and hollow. Abandoned, unnoticed, forgotten, I stood on the sidewalk, a nothing, a gatherer of dust. People hurried past me. and everyone who walked by was happier than I. I felt the old envy. I would have given anything to be one of them.

distinguished but run-down house on Brattle Street in Cambridge. R.J. had viewed it with disinterest. It

Phillip look into Ray's eyes. He saw compassion and hope. And he saw himself mirrored back, bleeding in a dirty gutter on a street where life was worth less than a dime bag. Sick, tired, petrified, Phillip dropped his head into his hands. What's the point? You're the point, son. Ray ran his hand over Phillip's hair. You're the point.

In the outside world, my brother told me, people were as reckless as animals and fornicated with strangers on the street.

Our purest joy comes when people we envy get hurt. That most genuine form of joy. The joy you feel when a limousine turns the wrong way down a one-way street.

because the rubber, too, is bulletproof. And so relentless is the wind that it rakes the street, pushing along this burden of crippled vermin, trundling this tide of suffering always in the wake of the Town Car as it reaches Spaulding Square. Fissures of lightning

Northeast Mississippi Avenue

Walls tagged with graffiti (one such piece of tagging: a stencil of a familiar Sith Lord's helmet with the phrase beneath it reading VADER LIVES).

You starving street waif! No, you're too old to be a waif! You starving high-school-aged waif!

The perfectly measured burr of a dispassionate detective had suddenly changed into the explosive boom of a take-no-shit street cop. Suffice it to say, I froze.

The light at this hour, on this street, is the secondhand gray of ghetto twilight, a dull mercury color.

Here comes loneliness applauding itself all the way down the street.

Recall, then, some event that has left a distinct impression on you---how at the corner of the street, perhaps, you passed two people talking. A tree shook; an electric light danced; the tone of the talk was comic, but also tragic; a whole vision, an entire conception, seemed contained in that moment. But when you attempt to reconstruct it in words, you will find that it breaks into a thousand conflicting impressions.

And presently I was shaking hands with both of them in the street, the sloping street, and everything was whirling and flying before the approaching white deluge, and a truck with a mattress from Philadelphia was confidently rolling down to an empty house, and dust was running and writhing over the exact slab of stone where Charlotte, when they lifted the laprobe for me, had been revealed, curled up, her eyes intact, their black lashes still wet, matted, like yours, Lolita.

That has a funny sound, but I knew there was value in it for me, because the world left me alone, and I liked that. I liked my solitude, my individuality, being alone on the street. I had playmates, and we did plenty of things together, but there was this general feeling of singularity. When I would go downtown on my own, I wasn't chattering with a lot of people about, "look at this, look at that." My mind was doing all the processing.

The street and me is a love story. 1971 is a great date because, finally, fashion took to the street.

Moody, gliding to a stop across the street, saw a slender girl in a long, crinkly skirt and a loose T-shirt with a message he couldn't quite read. Her hair was long and curly and hung in a thick braid down her back and gave the impression of straining to burst free.

In my front yard, there are these two giant old trees, which help the porch vibe, obviously, with a forty-foot-tall canopy. It has a very Jurassic Parky vibe, but without dinosaurs. Also, most people on my street are friendly, and I don't live on an island.

You've got the key of the street.

the crowd came pouring out with a vehemence that nearly took him off his legs, and a loud buzz swept into the street as if the baffled blue-flies were dispersing in search of other carrion.