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Traffic Quotes

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Traffic Quotes

“I won't be stuck in traffic 'til I see how rugged my path is And right now I'm loving how fast my troubles are fasting No they don't bother me oh realizing I'm psychopathic A wild beast, baby I'm gladly running after Yes a thing called peace outlasting any madness The devil fears me oh he's feeling Like a fragment of a fraction No he won't come near me 'Cause his hat trick's out of practice”

“All this waiting. Waiting for the rain to stop. Waiting in traffic. Waiting for the bill. Waiting at the airport for an old friend. Waiting to depart. Then, there’s the big waiting: waiting to grow up. Waiting for love. Waiting to show your your parents that when you have kids you’ll be different. Waiting to retire. Waiting for death. Why do we think waiting is the antithesis of life when it is almost all of it?”

“The worst effects of breathing polluted air are experienced where it is densest: in traffic. Spending time on and near highways, freeways, and other busy roads is terrible for your health. How near is a question that is still being studied, but researchers believe that the effects are worst within either a fifth or a third of a mile. People in cars or buses are exposed to considerably more air pollution, perhaps because of, rather than despite, being in a closed space. People walking and bicycling on or next to roads breathe more air, but inhale somewhat less pollution; and cyclists have been found to have even less risk if they are on paths that are separated from the road.”

“Traffic was congested in both directions due to the recent destruction of the bridges and the many abandoned cars, which left fewer options for those still trying desperately to flee the city and finding themselves unable to go anywhere. The vehicle occupants were easy pickings for the increasing number of infected on the roadway.”

“On city harp strings ‘neath cotton ball clouds, Pigeon to pigeon their stories they sing, Wafting flocks gather in soft, cooing crowds; Amid rush traffic, a prelude to spring, One with their nature, harmony within, Above street clatter, perched, resting their bones, Primed for the vernal bounty to begin, Soothing the clamor with light, dulcet tones; Whiffs of smog-filled drafts like bellows pulse through, Unfazed are they by our mad world of haste, The calm bevy awaits winter’s adieu, Unconsumed by thoughts of no time to waste, Nature presides with unshakable pride, The seasons shall turn with a feather’s glide.”

“The most [...] literal proposal to solve the problem of congestion comes from Harvey Wiley Corbett [...] Ultimately, Corbett calculates, the entire surface of the city could be a single traffic plane, an ocean of cars, increasing the traffic potential 700 percent. "[...We see] a very modernized Venice, a city of arcades, plazas and bridges, with canals for streets, only the canals will not be filled with real water but with freely flowing motor traffic, the sun glistening on the black tops of the cars and the buildings reflecting in this waving flood of rapidly rolling vehicles. From an architectural viewpoint [...] the idea presents all the loveliness, and more, of Venice. There is nothing incongruous about it, nothing strange..." Corbett's "solution" for New York's traffic problem is the most blatant case of disingenuity in Manhattanism's history. Pragmatism so distorted becomes pure poetry. Not for the moment does the theorist intend to relieve congestion; his true ambition is to escalate it to such intensity that it generates -- as in a quantum leap -- a completely new condition, where congestion becomes mysteriously positive [... Corbett and the authors of the Regional Plan] have invented a method to deal rationally with the fundamentally irrational. [They know] that it would be suicide to solve Manhattan's problems, that they exist by the grace of these problems, that it is their duty to make its problems, if anything, forever insurmountable, that the only solution for Manhattan is the extrapolation of its freakish history, that Manhattan is the city of the perpetual flight forward.”

“Divided up into squares and corralled by the multi-lane highways were groups of multi-storey car parks, office buildings and department stores with small shops, cinemas, petrol stations and gleaming chrome snack bars on the ground floors. Many years earlier, when this city plan was being implemented, critical voices had been raised to say that the system would make the city inhuman and uninhabitable. The experts had brushed off the criticism. They argued that a modern city should be built not for pedestrians and horse-drawn carriages but for cars. As on so many other issues, both sides had subsequently been proved right.”

“LASER spotters were employed to visually monitor air traffic in the vicinity of the high powered LASER beam. The were typically young students and aged people that would take these temporary very high altitude jobs for some extra money. Some would become irritable as the night progressed. As far as I know, there has never been any long term monitoring of these people for health issues stemming from nighttime industrial LASER exposure or oxygen starvation.”

“All that remains of the garden city in our own day are traffic-free enclaves, islands in a sea of traffic where the pedestrian leads a legally protected by languishing existence, comparable to that of the North American Indians on their reservations...In reality the modern urbanist regards the city as a gigantic centre of production, geared to the efficient transport of workers and goods, to the accommodation of people and the storage of wares, to industrial and commercial activity. The rest, that is to say creativity, life, is optional and comes under the heading of recreation and leisure activities.”

“It felt like surfacing; the sounds and smells of the city hit her in a wave of sensory overload. A taxi peeled by. A horn blared. People milled past, on their way to countless destinations. Madi squinted into the late-afternoon glare and smiled. The hum of millions of separate lives, woven together, gave her a buzz she couldn’t explain. Here in New York she was faceless, unknown. Herself.”

“The taxis in New York are a total nightmare. I don’t know how anybody tolerates them, and I am not complaining about the eviscerated seats, the shitty shock absorbers, the suicidal left-hand turns, but rather the common faith of all those Malaysian Sikhs, Bengali Hindus, Harlem Muslims, Lebanese Christians, Coney Island Russians, Brooklyn Jews, Buddhists, Zarathustrians—who knows what?—all of them with the rock-solid conviction that if you honk your bloody horn the sea will part before you. You can say it is not my business to comment. I am a hick, born in a butcher’s shop in Bacchus Marsh, but fuck them, really. Shut the fuck up.”

“You have carjacking back in old England?” “Carjacking?” “People walk up to you, steal your car.” “No, but thanks for asking. We have people who clean your windscreen against your will, but, er...” Joe barked with contempt. “The thing is,” explained Dirk, “in London you could certainly walk up to someone and steal their car, but you wouldn't be able to drive it away.” “Some kinda fancy device?” “No, just traffic,” said Dirk.”

“Caught between the longing for love, and the struggle for the legal tender, where the sirens sing and the church bells ring, and the junk man pounds his fender. Where the veterans dream of the fight, fast asleep at the traffic light, and the children solemnly wait for the ice cream vendor.”

“Good website practice and optimizing for conversion usually makes for good search engine optimization. These work together to ensure you drive quality traffic and can persuade that traffic to help you meet your business goals.”