Sidewalks Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
city-sidewalks-busy-sidewalks-dressed-in-holiday-style-in-air-theres-feeling-christmas-merle-haggard
city-sidewalks-busy-sidewalks-dressed-in-holiday-style-in-air-theres-feeling-christmas-dwight-yoakam
city-sidewalks-busy-sidewalks-dressed-in-hol-holiday-style-in-air-theres-feeling-christmas-fats-domino
city-sidewalks-busy-sidewalks-dressed-in-holiday-style-in-air-theres-feeling-christmas-children-laughing-people-passing-meeting-smile-after-smile-johnny-mathis
without-the-cracks-in-the-sidewalks-and-walls-the-city-cannot-breathe
well-i-spent-some-time-on-the-sidewalks-of-new-york-city
life-can-be-bore-if-youre-constantly-walking-sidewalks-instead-tightrope-once-in-while
one-day-i-realized-new-found-superpower-was-bestowed-upon-me-i-could-walk-straight-on-sidewalks-jr-rim
instead-sidewalks-why-not-sideruns-after-all-pace-life-is-faster-than-it-has-ever-been-i-think-our-infrastructures-nomenclature-should-reflect-that-jarod-kintz
safe-is-good-for-sidewalks-swimming-pools-but-life-requires-risk-if-we-are-to-get-anywhere-simon-sinek
we-cant-have-these-great-corporations-crowding-competition-off-sidewalks-its-like-elephant-saying-everyone-for-himself-as-he-dances-among-chickens-emanuel-celler
we-were-all-survivorsevery-last-one-us-who-limped-our-way-out-to-sidewalks-that-afternoon-spit-in-deaths-cold-face-cat-winters
if-they-have-moving-sidewalks-in-future-when-you-get-on-them-i-think-you-should-have-to-assume-sort-walking-shape-as-not-to-frighten-dogs-jack-handey
in-my-most-psychotic-stages-i-imagine-myself-chewing-on-sidewalks-bulging-swallowing-sunlight-clouds
i-was-almost-impeached-for-getting-cars-off-sidewalks-which-car-owning-upper-classes-had-illegally-appropriated-for-parking-enrique-penalosa
she-is-stunned-that-in-this-town-there-are-no-sidewalks-to-speak-no-streetlights-no-public-transportation-no-stores-for-miles-at-at-time-jhumpa-lahiri
the-sidewalks-flash-silver-with-mica-skyline-smeared-with-geese-by-way-recognition-i-lost-sound-your-voice-ryan-murphy
i-wander-cowboy-sidewalks-wood-wearing-toosmall-hat-filled-with-remorse-for-many-lives-i-failed-to-lead-george-saunders
the-political-ramifications-our-festering-financial-economic-crisis-have-reached-sidewalks-new-york-as-well-as-other-large-small-cities-across-us
the-summer-night-was-settling-upon-neighborhood-like-dark-lace-veil-casting-dappled-shadows-on-roofs-sidewalks-lawns-victoria-kahler
ive-sucked-way-too-much-cement-for-this-year-bad-juju-rising-off-them-city-sidewalks-i-need-to-babble-with-brook-two-inhale-starlight-make-friends-tom-robbins
please-also-remember-pitiful-gaspingthirsty-little-mouths-beaks-in-summer-theyll-appreciate-abundantfreshcoolclean-water-food-they-can-get-easily-in-adela-popescu
i-like-these-people-swarming-on-sidewalks-wedged-into-little-space-houses-canals-hemmed-in-by-fogs-cold-lands-sea-streaming-like-wet-wash-i-like-them-for-they-are-double-they-are
the-court-has-said-you-are-entitled-to-robust-speech-on-public-sidewalks-even-insulting-speech
it-seems-only-yesterday-i-used-to-believe-there-was-nothing-under-my-skin-but-light-if-you-cut-me-i-could-shine-but-now-when-i-fall-upon-sidewalks-life-i-skin-my-knees-i-bleed-bi
cameras-are-everywhere-walls-have-eyes-sidewalks-have-eyes-nothing-completely-happens-without-someone-knowing-about-it-ricky-star
parks-plazas-gardens-rooftops-are-cultureproducing-places-not-merely-place-for-retreat-sidewalks-bridges-become-ends-in-themselves-instead-just-means-getting-from-one-place-to-an
im-tired-this-dirty-old-city-entirely-too-much-work-never-enough-play-and-im-tired-these-dirty-old-sidewalks-i-think-ill-walk-off-my-steady-job-iris-dement
east-side-west-side-all-around-town-the-tots-sang-ringrosie-london-bridge-is-falling-down-boys-girls-together-me-mamie-ororke-tripped-light-fantastic-on-sidewalks-new-york-james-
And when spring comes to the City people notice one another in the road; notice the strangers with whom they share aisles and tables and the space where intimate garments are laundered. going in and out, in and out the same door, they handle the handle; on trolleys and park benches they settle thighs on a seat in which hundreds have done it too. Copper coins dropped in the palm have been swallowed by children and tested by gypsies, but it's still money and people smile at that. It's the time of year when the City urges contradiction most, encouraging you to buy street food when you have no appetite at all; giving you a taste for a single room occupied by you alone as well as a craving to share it with someone you passed in the street. Really there is no contradiction-rather it's a condition; the range of what an artful City can do. What can beat bricks warming up to the sun? The return of awnings. The removal of blankets from horses' backs. Tar softens under the heel and the darkness under bridges changes from gloom to cooling shade. After a light rain, when the leaves have come, tree limbs are like wet fingers playing in woolly green hair. Motor cars become black jet boxes gliding behind hoodlights weakened by mist. On sidewalks turned to satin figures move shoulder first, the crowns of their heads angled shields against the light buckshot that the raindrops are. The faces of children glimpsed at windows appear to be crying, but it is the glass pane dripping that makes it seem so.

Toni Morrison
and-when-spring-comes-to-city-people-notice-one-another-in-road-notice-strangers-with-whom-they-share-aisles-tables-space-where-intimate-garments-are-laundered-going-in-out-in-ou
I wanted to write an adventure story, not, it's true, I really did. I shall have failed, that's all. Adventures bore me. I have no idea how to talk about countries, how to make people wish they had been there. I am not a good travelling salesman. Countries? Where are they , whatever became of them. When I was twelve I dreamed of Hongkong. That tedious, commonplace little provincial town! Shops sprouting from every nook and cranny! The Chinese junks pictured on the lids of chocolate boxes used to fascinate me. Junks: sort of chopped-off barges, where the housewives do all their cooking and washing on deck. They even have television. As for the Niagara Falls: water, nothing but water! A dam is more interesting; at least one can occasionally see a big crack at its base, and hope for some excitement. When one travels, one sees nothing but hotels. Squalid rooms, with iron bedsteads, and a picture of some kind hanging on the wall from a rusty nail, a coloured print of London Bridge or the Eiffel Tower. One also sees trains, lots of trains, and airports that look like restaurants, and restaurants that look like morgues. All the ports in the world are hemmed in by oil slicks and shabby customs buildings. In the streets of the towns, people keep to the sidewalks, cars stop at red lights. If only one occasionally arrived in a country where women are the colour of steel and men wear owls on their heads. But no, they are sensible, they all have black ties, partings to one side, brassie¨res and stiletto heels. In all the restaurants, when one has finished eating one calls over the individual who has been prowling among the tables, and pays him with a promissory note. There are cigarettes everywhere! There are airplanes and automobiles everywhere.

Jean-Marie G. Le Clezio
i-wanted-to-write-adventure-story-not-its-true-i-really-did-i-shall-have-failed-thats-all-adventures-bore-me-i-have-no-idea-how-to-talk-about-countries-how-to-make-people-wish-th
America is a leap of the imagination. From its beginning, people had only a persistent idea of what a good country should be. The idea involved freedom, equality, justice, and the pursuit of happiness; nowadays most of us probably could not describe it a lot more clearly than that. The truth is, it always has been a bit of a guess. No one has ever known for sure whether a country based on such an idea is really possible, but again and again, we have leaped toward the idea and hoped. What SuAnne Big Crow demonstrated in the Lead high school gym is that making the leap is the whole point. The idea does not truly live unless it is expressed by an act; the country does not live unless we make the leap from our tribe or focus group or gated community or demographic, and land on the shaky platform of that idea of a good country which all kinds of different people share. This leap is made in public, and it's made for free. It's not a product or a service that anyone will pay you for. You do it for reasons unexplainable by economics-for ambition, out of conviction, for the heck of it, in playfulness, for love. It's done in public spaces, face-to-face, where anyone is free to go. It's not done on television, on the Internet, or over the telephone; our electronic systems can only tell us if the leap made elsewhere has succeeded or failed. The places you'll see it are high school gyms, city sidewalks, the subway, bus stations, public parks, parking lots, and wherever people gather during natural disasters. In those places and others like them, the leaps that continue to invent and knit the country continue to be made. When the leap fails, it looks like the L.A. riots, or Sherman's March through Georgia. When it succeeds, it looks like the New York City Bicentennial Celebration in July 1976 or the Civil Rights March on Washington in 1963. On that scale, whether it succeeds or fails, it's always something to see. The leap requires physical presence and physical risk. But the payoff-in terms of dreams realized, of understanding, of people getting along-can be so glorious as to make the risk seem minuscule.

Ian Frazier
america-is-leap-imagination-from-its-beginning-people-had-only-persistent-idea-what-good-country-should-be-the-idea-involved-freedom-equality-justice-pursuit-happiness-nowadays-m
People walk the paths of the gardens below, and the wind sings anthems in the hedges, and the big old cedars at the entrance to the maze creak. Marie-Laure imagines the electromagnetic waves traveling into and out of Michel's machine, bending around them, just as Etienne used to describe, except now a thousand times more crisscross the air than when he lived - maybe a million times more. Torrents of text conversations, tides of cell conversations, of televisions programs, of e-mails, vast networks of fiber and wire interlaced above and beneath the city, passing through buildings, arcing between transmitters in Metro tunnels, between antennas atop buildings, from lampposts with cellular transmitters in them, commercials for Carrefour and Evian and prebaked toaster pastries flashing into space and back to earth again, I am going to be late and Maybe we should get reservations? and Pick up avocados and What did he say? and ten thousand I miss yous, fifty thousand I love yous, hate mail and appointment reminders and market updates, jewelry ads, coffee ads, furniture ads flying invisibly over the warrens of Paris, over the battlefields and tombs, over the Ardennes, over the Rhine, over Belgium and Denmark, over the scarred and ever-shifting landscape we call nations. And is it so hard to believe that souls might also travel those paths? That her father and Etienne and Madame Manec and the German boy named Werner Pfennig might harry the sky in flocks, like egrets, like terns, like starlings? That great shuttles of souls might fly about, faded but audible if you listen closely enough? They flow above the chimneys, ride the sidewalks, slip through your jacket and shirt and breastbone and lungs, and pass out through the other side, the air a library and the record of every life lived, every sentence spoken, every word transmitted still reverberating within it. Every hour, she thinks, someone for whom the war was memory falls out of the world. We rise again in the grass. In the flowers. In songs.

Anthony Doerr
people-walk-paths-gardens-below-wind-sings-anthems-in-hedges-big-old-cedars-at-entrance-to-maze-creak-marielaure-imagines-electromagnetic-waves-traveling-into-out-michels-machine
I have always, essentially, been waiting. Waiting to become something else, waiting to be that person I always thought I was on the verge of becoming, waiting for that life I thought I would have. In my head, I was always one step away. In high school, I was biding my time until I could become the college version of myself, the one my mind could see so clearly. In college, the post-college 'adult' person was always looming in front of me, smarter, stronger, more organized. Then the married person, then the person I'd become when we have kids. For twenty years, literally, I have waited to become the thin version of myself, because that's when life will really begin. And through all that waiting, here I am. My life is passing, day by day, and I am waiting for it to start. I am waiting for that time, that person, that event when my life will finally begin. I love movies about 'The Big Moment' - the game or the performance or the wedding day or the record deal, the stories that split time with that key event, and everything is reframed, before it and after it, because it has changed everything. I have always wanted this movie-worthy event, something that will change everything and grab me out of this waiting game into the whirlwind in front of me. I cry and cry at these movies, because I am still waiting for my own big moment. I had visions of life as an adventure, a thing to be celebrated and experienced, but all I was doing was going to work and coming home, and that wasn't what it looked like in the movies. John Lennon once said, 'Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.' For me, life is what was happening while I was busy waiting for my big moment. I was ready for it and believed that the rest of my life would fade into the background, and that my big moment would carry me through life like a lifeboat. The Big Moment, unfortunately, is an urban myth. Some people have them, in a sense, when they win the Heisman or become the next American Idol. But even that football player or that singer is living a life made up of more than that one moment. Life is a collection of a million, billion moments, tiny little moments and choices, like a handful of luminous, glowing pearl. It takes so much time, and so much work, and those beads and moments are so small, and so much less fabulous and dramatic than the movies. But this is what I'm finding, in glimpses and flashes: this is it. This is it, in the best possible way. That thing I'm waiting for, that adventure, that move-score-worthy experience unfolding gracefully. This is it. Normal, daily life ticking by on our streets and sidewalks, in our houses and apartments, in our beds and at our dinner tables, in our dreams and prayers and fights and secrets - this pedestrian life is the most precious thing any of use will ever experience.

Shauna Niequist
i-have-always-essentially-been-waiting-waiting-to-become-something-else-waiting-to-be-that-person-i-always-thought-i-was-on-verge-becoming-waiting-for-that-life-i-thought-i-would
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