A good programmer is someone who always looks both ways before crossing a one-way street.
There comes a time when you have to stand up and be counted.
I've noticed that even people who believe in fate look both ways before crossing the street.
I know that experts say you're more likely to get hurt crossing the street than you are flying, but that doesn't make me any less frightened of flying. If anything, it makes me more afraid of crossing the street.
Advice to children crossing the street: damn the lights. Watch the cars. The lights ain't never killed nobody.
Soon, I'm going to need help crossing the street.
Believe me, you can be in the middle of a beautiful take and the next thing you know you're awash in people crossing the street. You can't even find your actors.
When I'm crossing the street, I look both ways and I process the information rationally because if I make a mistake I get hurt, but when I cast a vote, kind of regardless of how I voted, doesn't make a difference and that's sort of a recipe for uninformed and irrational voting.
and in that recurring dream, I found myself trapped in some sort of gigantic game of which I was unfamiliar with the rules; lost in a labyrinthine town of dark and damp, criss-crossing streets, ambiguous characters of uncertain authority having no idea of why I was there nor what I had to do, and where the first sign of the beginning of understanding was the wish to die.
Parents teach their children to look both ways when crossing the street. They tell them to look only one way when choosing a religion.
Lawyers-they get together all day and say to each other, "What can we postpone next?" The only thing they don't postpone, of course, is their bill, which arrives regularly. You've heard about the man who got the bill from his lawyer which said, "For crossing the street to speak to you and discovering it was not you, twelve dollars."
I could have told him that nothing was safe and that no matter how careful you were and how hard you tried, there were still accidents, hidden traps, and snares. You could get killed on an airplane or crossing the street. Your marriage could fall apart when you weren't looking; your husband could lose his job; our baby could get sick or die.
Sorry but nothing of much importance ever happened to me...I'm just a girl who forgot to look both ways before crossing the street.
Remember this moment. If we don't convince the field marshal (Fedor von Bock) to fly to Hitler at once and have these orders (Commissar Order) canceled, the German people will be burdened with a guilt the world will not forget in a hundred years. This guilt will fall not only on Hitler, Himmler, Göring, and their comrades but on you and me, your wife and mine, your children and mine, that woman crossing the street, and those children over there playing ball.
When you were growing up, your mom and dad told you to look both ways before crossing the street or not to get into a car with a stranger. It's the same with the internet. We have a big responsibility and a huge role in bringing all the stakeholders to the table - users, parents, educators, law enforcement, government organisations.
New York was the only city I knew in the world where you could be desperately lonely at nine in the morning, crossing the street for a bagel at Gristede's, and find that seven hours later you were drinking Irish coffee at P.J. Clarke's with all the friends you had inherited along the way.
I got my heel stuck in a drain as I was crossing the street and cars were coming. It was really scary. A girl in heels in New York is a hard combination.
But this is a remarkable egg, an egg worth talking about, an egg worth crossing the street for, an egg worth writing about.
I get a lot of letters. Not only from children but from adults, too. Almost every week, every month, clippings come in from some part of the world where ducks are crossing the street.
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.
I'm really afraid of getting hit by cars, like terrified of it. I`m terrified of crossing streets. I'm also very accident-prone...I think people aim for me.
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