What is happening to our young people? They disrespect their elders, they disobey their parents. They ignore the law. They riot in the streets inflamed with wild notions. Their morals are decaying. What is to become of them?
That we need help is easy to see every time we walk down the street. The experts confirm what the obscured view in front of us tells us. They estimate that 64% of adults in the United States are obese and that this percentage is growing. Even our children are being affected, as nearly every one in three American children under the age of 18 is overweight.
The meaning of the Street in all ways and at all times is the need for sharing life with others and the search for community.
I'm that neighborhood blizzard flooding these streets with snow.
A thin line between the haters and the ones who love us. A thinner line from the freedom and the foul judges, In the streets where the snake niggas hold grudges.
The military ain't there for the people's protection, They're just there to protect an investment. That's why people get arrested, electrocuted, molested, Connected streets are infested with those tired of protesting. Traumatized children grown in guerrilla garrisons, 9/11 generations pale in comparison. And you will learn a lesson repeated through history: That no matter what you think, occupation is not victory.
I'm livin' in times where my daughters are found around Kids who can't afford thinking caps... But always found drinkin' raps and eatin' off beats, Claimin' laws of the streets. But who made the laws? Everybody playin' rebel with no sign of a cause.
If I wasn't in the rap game, I'd probably have a key knee-deep in the crack game. Because the streets is a short stop: Either you're slinging crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot.
You heard about, through word of mouth, Big Bird is out, he's in the house. He's turnin' up, with Snuffleup, They're really gettin' their hustle up. They stick together like Velcro, There Grover go, there's Elmo. And Cookie Monster there, look he likes To take selfies with his cell phone. They got a homegirl named Abby, Her last name is Cadabby, I showed her my report card, She said, 'Not too shabby!' They got all types of cool kids there, It's lots of fun if you live there, One thing I keep forgettin' about Sesame Street... How do you get there?
Wake up: all of that 'crack in the street' talk? It's made up, like 'Jack and the Beanstalk.'
Debasement was limited at first to one’s own territory. It was then found that one could do better by taking bad coins across the border of neighboring municipalities and exchanging them for good with ignorant common people, bringing back the good coins and debasing them again. More and more mints were established. Debasement accelerated in hyper-fashion until a halt was called after the subsidiary coins became practically worthless, and children played with them in the street, much as recounted in Leo Tolstoy’s short story, Ivan the Fool.
It's only a wonderful world if you can make it that way. There are no street signs pointing to Paradise Road.
Killing Lincoln is a must-read historical thriller. Bill O'Reilly recounts the dramatic events of the spring of 1865 with such exhilarating immediacy that you will feel like you are walking the streets of Washington DC on the night that John Wilkes Booth shot Abraham Lincoln. This is a hugely entertaining, heart-stopping read.
First, many in Wall Street - a community in which quality control is not prized - will sell investors anything they will buy.
A pack of lemmings looks like a group of rugged individualists compared with Wall Street when it gets a concept in its teeth.
In a way, I'd rather ride down the street on a camel than give what is sometimes called an in-depth interview. I'd rather ride down the street on a camel nude. In a snowstorm. Backwards.
We learn about one another's culture the same way we learn about sex: in the streets.
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.
Sometimes in the afternoon sky the moon would pass white as a cloud, furtive, lusterless, like an actress who does not have to perform yet and who, from the audience, in street clothes, watches the other actors for a moment, making herself inconspicuous, not wanting anyone to pay attention to her.
The streets of every city in America are filled with men who would pay all the money they could lay their hands on to be transformed, even for a day, into hairy, hard-fisted brutes who walk all over cops, extort drinks from terrified bartenders and roar out of town on big motorcycles after raping the banker's daughter.
My life is actually very boring. The life of a bestselling novelist sounds like it ought to be spectacularly glamorous and fun, but in fact I spend most of my time incognito, and in fact were you to pass me in the street you would think I was just another dowdy suburban mom.
Like any place in Reality, the Street is subject to development. Developers can build their own small streets feeding off of the main one. They can build buildings, parks, signs, as well as things that do not exist in Reality, such as vast hovering overhead light shows and special neighborhoods where the rules of three-dimensional spacetime are ignored.
I don't just do music for the clubs, I do music for the struggle. I do music for everyday niggas, the kids who ain't got no sense of direction. I'm trying to restore some of the morals back into the game, as far as the street.
In a polling conducted by the Wall Street Journal, 11 out of 12 Americans said they oppose the taking of private property, even if it is for public economic good.
I thank God that I've lived long enough to see what I have seen, and I pray that people will continue to do better. We are doing better, it may not seem so, but there was a time when people were lynched in the middle of the street and it was not against the law. We are doing better, but we have so much more to do.
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