Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Pedestrian. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Pedestrian Quotes And Sayings by 93 Authors including Jenna Fischer,Tom Waits,Joseph Altuzarra,Elicia Hyder,Janeane Garofalo for you to enjoy and share.
Well, now that I have a baby, I'm that person who's looking for all the parks. I'm also the person who lost their coat because I was juggling so many items. So I'm that person: I lost my coat, I lost my scarf, and it's cold now.
using parking meters as walking sticks.
When I'm not working, I'm walking.
My neighbours porch light flickered on. My eyes darted down the street.
"Can we go inside before someone calls the police?" I asked.
"I am the police," Nathan reminded me.
Pedestrian's rights - because we live in California, I've got to address this issue. I don't know where on the fence I am about that. I suppose if I'm walking, I'm all for it, but if I'm driving, that's a whole other can of worms.
What a frail thing a human being is - and without the Passenger, that is all I was, a poor imitation of a human being. Weak, soft, slow and stupid, unseeing, unhearing and unaware, helpless, hopeless, and harried.
Who was I? The stranger was footsteps in the snow a long time ago.
I'm a freeborn man of the travelling people. Got no fixed abode, and no man is my master. Country lanes and byways were always my ways. I never fancied going faster.
To equip a pedestrian with shelter, bedding, utensils, food, and other necessities, in a pack so light and small that he can carry it without overstrain, is really a fine art.
Dreamers of dreams may be pathfinders; but they may be mere vagrants. Of those who depart from the pavements, only a few are explorers: the rest are mere jaywalkers
Beware, O wanderer, the road is walking too.
Who never walks save where he sees men's tracks makes no discoveries.
This is Port of Spain to me, a city ideal in its commercial and human proportions, where a citizen is a walker and not a pedestrian, and this is how Athens may have been before it became a cultural echo.
People who walk across dark bridges, past saints,
with dim, small lights.
Clouds which move across gray skies
past churches
with towers darkened in the dusk.
One who leans against granite railing
gazing into the evening waters,
His hands resting on old stones.
Restore human legs as a means of travel. Pedestrians rely on food for fuel and need no special parking facilities.
I'm STREET. ... I've been ON a street, anyway...
I travel in gardens and bedrooms, basements and attics, around corners, through doorways and windows, along sidewalks, over carpets, down drainpipes, in the sky, with friends, lovers, children and heros; perceived, remembered, imagined, distorted and clarified.
A man used to riding in a car cannot understand a pedestrian.
One of those people with invisible thorns, preventing others from getting too close.
Walks. The body advances, while the mind flutters around it like a bird.
I'd rather any kind of business on the ground floor than the utter lack of respect for pedestrians with which buildings are put up in this city today. . . . Nobody cares any more about pedestrian identity.
You see airbrushed images of me, but I know the person who's walking barefoot, dodging dog poo in the yard.
The traveller has reached the end of the journey!
Once more I am a wanderer, a pilgrim, through the world. But what else are you?
You know what we call pedestrians in Morganville? Mobile bloodbanks.
The subject of walking is, in some sense, about how we invest universal acts with particular meanings. Like eating or breathing, it can be invested with wildly different cultural meanings, from the erotic to the spiritual, from the revolutionary to the artistic.
Idiot! Lunatic! Moron! Jackass! Selfish irresponsible fool!
A simple separate person is not contained between his hat and his boots.
By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind sees the path
I try not to think of myself as a person
but a metal object, built suddenly by machines in complete darkness
something impossible to hurt with a shovel
The stalker, meanwhile, stepped into the road. Didn't even check for traffic. There wasn't any, but something told me this was lucky for traffic rather than the stalker.
Definition Of A Wanderer: A guy who's always looking beyond
Here I am, just wandering down a deserted street in the middle of the night. I hope I don't run into any trouble. Goodness, that would just ruin my whole evening. I strolled and hummed, trying to project Innocent Victim.
I am not man or beast; I am bibliosexual, and a seedy bibliosexual who haunts the streets, laden with carrier bags held by blistered fingers, stooping under the weight of the rucksack that has brought on sciatica and a Dickensian demeanour.
Who are you when no one is watching?
When an acquaintance goes by I often step back from my window, not so much to spare him the effort of acknowledging me as to spare myself the embarrassment of seeing that he has not done so.
Walkers easily travel three miles by foot. Drivers get in their cars to get from one side of the parking lot to the other. Neither quite understand why the other is so crazy, when it's so easy to do things their way.
Free spirited free riders they're on their way but don't know where they're going ...
Walking through the city streets ... Is it by mistake or design?
Sleepwalkers, leave other sleepwalkers alone!
People are the nature of the city, and you can feel it in the pavement.
The glass is riddled with bullets on either side of The Stranger, but the glass before him is unbroken, as though the bullets didn't dare approach.
That's when I work out what he is: a bullet catcher.
I've always been a lover of hoodies. I'm a guy that travels a lot. I'm a guy that spends a lot of time on a cold air-conditioned tour bus. I'm a guy that likes to watch movies in peace. I'm a guy that likes to travel in the airport in peace.
You make many small decisions as you drive your car, absorb some information as you read the newspaper, and conduct routine exchanges of pleasantries with a spouse or a colleague, all with little effort and no strain. Just like a stroll.
I don't really think, I just walk.Walk-- Paris Hilton
It was past midnight. From the carpark of the apartment blocks, a human figure with an unsteady gait emerged.
What are you?"
"Im a Shadowhunter...
One who journeying Along a way he knows not, having crossed A place of drear extent, before him sees A river rushing swiftly toward the deep, And all its tossing current white with foam, And stops and turns, and measures back his way.
some evil old ruffian of a Dog-stealer
Lunar. Cyborg. Fugitive. Outlaw. Outcast.
I describe myself as a human being.
But then - I was just following him in reverie over mountain and valley - he jumped with both feet onto the middle of my body. I shuddered with wild pain, utterly uncomprehending. Who was it? A child? A gymnast? A daredevil? A suicide? A tempter? An annihilator?
Effrem got out, walked across the yard, then down a breezeway and
I'm a keep running through the red light living my life.
You are person with a goal
Ah betcha you wants some dressed up dude dat got to look at de sole of his shoe everytime he cross de street tuh see whether he got enough leather dere tuh make it across.
PERIPATETIC, adj. Walking about. Relating to the philosophy of Aristotle, who, while expounding it, moved from place to place in order to avoid his pupil's objections. A needless precaution - they knew no more of the matter than he.
Stood on the sidewalk and looked down the street
The good Samaritan, he's getting dressed, he's getting ready for the show. He's going to the carnival tonight on Desolation Row.
I picked up a hitch hiker. You've got to when you hit them.
people, the kind of man who
A passenger on a road journey is in the hands of a driver; a reader embarking on a book is in the hands of a narrator.
I'll always be a boulevardier. I have an extreme reverence and romantic longing for all that is decrepit and fatalistic.
He sauntered. To stray is human. To saunter is Parisian. In
I am a guy who is first of all a businessman. I'm not a stunt man. I'm not a daredevil. I'm - I'm an explorer.
We leave our presence in the pavement. We're walking over it, sitting on steps.
An active line on a walk, moving freely, without goal. A walk for a walk's sake.
The French have the perfect word for it: 'flaneur'. It means to stroll around aimlessly but enjoyably, observing life and your surroundings. Baudelaire defined a flaneur as 'a person who walks the city in order to experience it'.
A traveler, the purer form, someone who collects impressions, dense anatomies of feeling but does not care to record them.
Walking is the natural recreation for a man who desires not absolutely to suppress his intellect but to turn it out to play for a season. All great men of letters have therefore been enthusiastic walkers.
THE ADVENTURE OF THE SOLITARY CYCLIST
I walk alone and on my own.Walk-- Parul Wadhwa
I'm a creature of the New York City streets.
An idealist. The most dangerous kind of man there was. And
shopping trolleys
A tramp, a gentleman, a poet, a dreamer, a lonely fellow, always hopeful of romance and adventure.
He who walks in the middle of the roads gets hit from both sides.
Hello there, officer, just out for a walk. Lovely evening for a dismemberment, isn't it?
This walking business is overrated: I mastered the art of doing it when I was quite small, and in any case, what are taxis for?
I often get recognized on the street.
I am Retired Leisure. I am to be met with in trim gardens. I am already come to be known by my vacant face and careless gesture, perambulating at no fixed pace nor with any settled purpose. I walk about; not to and from.
Ah, you poor fools, walking so tall and haughty with your guns and your sticks and your wide belts full of gear like the second coming of Batman, sitting in your little cars full of mechanized fear as you reach for your little radios at the first sign of anything more worrisome than a jaywalker.
Since my fried left me,I've got nothing to do but walking.I walk to forget.I walk,I escape,I get further.My friend will not come back,now I am a marathon man.
What kind of woman agrees to a blind date at the top of a tower? And what kind of man spends his nights with a helmet on his head, visor closed, communicated with people via tennis balls?
I think the word is adult!
Who are you wearing? Who are you wearing?
A killer with the manners of a rabbit - this is the most dangerous kind.
The street has its own use for things.
I'm walking through the city
Like a drunk, but not
With my slip showing a little
Like a drunk, but not
And I am one of your people
But the cars don't stop
And I am one of your people
But the cars don't stop
I'm an Einstein of the streets and an Oxford scholar of common sense.
I walk wherever my errands take me.
My God! Who is this creature? It considers itself human.
The street finds its own uses for things.
Who am I ?
Standing in the midst
of this thought traffic.
I am two people. One goes through the motions, rolling from one thing to the next; the other is withdrawn, watching a complete stranger.
People come and go.
So, what are you?"
"What I am is someone who doesn't want you to jump out of the window. The rest are details.
What was a policeman, if not a civilian with a uniform and a badge?
I'll walk in the middle of the road. No more standing safely to the side.
I'm surprised when I see someone doing the logical, commonsense thing: Walk facing the oncoming traffic.