Quotes About Street
Q
“If I had a street named after me, I’d carry
that around instead of a driver’s license for ID. You are what’s named
after you.
”
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“That weekend the city blushed with a great heat wave but on Monday it rained, cooling the ache in the street’s burn.”
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“In the shadows he could just make out a rough,
ghostly wall that stood out in the pitch darkness. As if drawn by an
irresistible black beacon, he slowly advanced step by step towards that
incandescent wall of shale. Far off, the city was vanishing into the
air. The fiesta disappeared somewhere beyond his eyelids. The wall was
increasing in size, growing amidst a mixture of shadows and sparks. It
was a wall of smoke from which sprouted candles that resembled
asteroids. In fact, it was not one wall but two. Two tall, crackling
walls, silently burning. But it wasn't two walls either. It was, in
fact, a street.”
“...And we left the light
for the night of the street”
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for the night of the street”
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“You may have the dark and cold street life,
ruled by the lessor light of the moon. During this time I restore my
temple, and later awake to greet the awesome radiance of the sun-star.”
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“Street culture is a culture of containment.
Most young people do not realize that it all too often leads to a “dead
end”. “Street culture,” as I am using the term, is a counterforce to
movement culture. Street culture in contemporary urban reality is
synonymous with survival at all costs. This world view is mostly
negative, because it demands constant adjustment to circumstances that
are often far beyond young people’s control or understanding, such as
economics, education, housing, employment, nutrition, law, and so
forth.”
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“Earlier 18th-century literary language was not
supple enough to connect the life of the imagination to that of the
street.”
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“Yesterday from my office window I saw a
crippled girl negotiating her way across the street, her shoulders
squarely braced. At each jerky movement her hair flew back like an
annunciatory angel, and I saw she was the only dancer on the street.”
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“Моята консерватория е улицата. А разумът ми - инстинктът.”
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“This twinned twinkle was delightful but not
completely satisfying; or rather it only sharpened my appetite for
other tidbits of light and shade, and I walked on in a state of raw
awareness that seemed to transform the whole of my being into one big
eyeball rolling in the world's socket.
Through peacocked lashes I saw the dazzling diamond reflection of the low sun on the round back of a parked automobile. To all kinds of things a vivid pictorial sense had been restored by the sponge of the thaw. Water in overlapping festoons flowed down one sloping street and turned gracefully into another. With ever so slight a note of meretricious appeal, narrow passages between buildings revealed treasures of brick and purple. I remarked for the first time the humble fluting - last echoes of grooves on the shafts of columns - ornamenting a garbage can, and I also saw the rippling upon its lid - circles diverging from a fantastically ancient center. Erect, dark-headed shapes of dead snow (left by the blades of a bulldozer last Friday) were lined up like rudimentary penguins along the curbs, above the brilliant vibration of live gutters.
I walked up, and I walked down, and I walked straight into a delicately dying sky, and finally the sequence of observed and observant things brought me, at my usual eating time, to a street so distant from my usual eating place that I decided to try a restaurant which stood on the fringe of the town. Night had fallen without sound or ceremony when I came out again. ("The Vane Sisters")”
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Through peacocked lashes I saw the dazzling diamond reflection of the low sun on the round back of a parked automobile. To all kinds of things a vivid pictorial sense had been restored by the sponge of the thaw. Water in overlapping festoons flowed down one sloping street and turned gracefully into another. With ever so slight a note of meretricious appeal, narrow passages between buildings revealed treasures of brick and purple. I remarked for the first time the humble fluting - last echoes of grooves on the shafts of columns - ornamenting a garbage can, and I also saw the rippling upon its lid - circles diverging from a fantastically ancient center. Erect, dark-headed shapes of dead snow (left by the blades of a bulldozer last Friday) were lined up like rudimentary penguins along the curbs, above the brilliant vibration of live gutters.
I walked up, and I walked down, and I walked straight into a delicately dying sky, and finally the sequence of observed and observant things brought me, at my usual eating time, to a street so distant from my usual eating place that I decided to try a restaurant which stood on the fringe of the town. Night had fallen without sound or ceremony when I came out again. ("The Vane Sisters")”
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“A street that you have never visited is a book that you have never read! You never know what you are missing!”
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WOW COOL.
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