A Quote by Saswata Chatterjee
Smartphones are good but I often ask myself whether I am good enough to handle it. Like, few days ago I saw a man talking over his phone while crossing the road. And I was driving then. I was surprised to see he didn't even look at the car in front of him.
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There is no good talking to him," said a Dragon-fly, who was sitting on the top of a large brown bulrush; "no good at all, for he has gone away." "Well, that is his loss, not mine," answered the Rocket. "I am not going to stop talking to him merely because he pays no attention. I like hearing myself talk. It is one of my greatest pleasures. I often have long conversations all by myself, and I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying." "Then you should definitely lecture on Philosophy," said the Dragon-fly.
Even a good man sees evil days, as long as his good deed has not ripened; but when his good deed has ripened, then does the good man see happy days.
I definitely road test music. I'll drive in the car and look up at the sky and that often makes it more clear, like what's good and what's not. Driving in darkness is amazing, because you really feel the energy and what has presence, spirit to it, and what doesn't.
While accessory items and embedded features help minimize driver distraction, nothing replaces simple common-sense when using a cell phone in the car. Pull over to the side of the road to dial manually, know the features and functions of your phone before you drive and allow voice mail to pick up your calls if you are driving - these are all simple and commonsensical steps we can all take to minimize distraction from in-car cell phone use.
There is a man sleeping in the grass. And over him is gathering the greatest storm of all his days. Such lightening and thunder will come there has never been seen before, bringing death and destruction. People hurry home past him, to places safe from danger. And whether they do not see him there in the grass, or whether they fear to halt even a moment, but they do not wake him, they let him be.
If you look at the ability of a self-driving car to stay in the lane and not to speed and keep a good distance to the car in front of you, it actually does better than me.
Saw myself naked in front of a mirror a couple days ago - that's not the joke, that's what we called the setup. I saw myself naked, and I said, 'Holy cow, I'm 'The White Man.' I've heard a lot of bad things about you, cracka.
Father was a good driver and enjoyed driving, but the sight of a female in charge of a vehicle was sometimes too much for him. If a car came to close or made the smallest mistake with the rules of the road he shouted, "blasted woman driver", to which my mother was often able to say, with truth, "Funny thing, she's dressed as a man."
If I did see a white man who was willing to go to jail or throw himself in front of a car in behalf of the so-called "negro cause," the test that I'd put to him, I'd ask him, "Do you think negro, when Negroes are being attacked they should defend themselves even at the risk of having to kill the one who's attacking them?" If that white man told me, "Yes," I'd shake his hand.
I let my head fall forward into his shoulder, breathing in his scent. "Now what do we do?" He's quiet for a while and I finally lean back to look him in the eyes. He appears conflicted by something and then he sets me down on the ground, lacing his fingers through mine. "Should we see where the wind takes us?" he asks. I stare at my hand in his and then look up at him. "That sounds good to me.
The first car I purchased was for my father. I bought him a truck. I didn't want to see myself driving around in a nicer car than him. I wanted him to feel like he's accomplished a lot, too, which he has. He's put me in a great position.
Every day, I wake up and ask, 'Am I hungry?' If I'm physically hungry, I eat something that's hopefully good for me, and then do it again in a few hours. If I get a phone call I don't like, I'll say to myself, 'Is that the reason I want to eat something?' If it is, I try not to do it. It's literally a lifestyle.
Then what good is he? (Maggie) I ask myself every friggin’ day exactly what you did. What good am I? The answer is simple. There’s nothing good about me and I like it that way. Pride myself on it, in fact. (Savitar)
A man is hit by a car while crossing a Beverly Hills street. A woman rushes to him and cradles his head in her lap, asking, Are you comfortable? The man answers, I make a nice living.
I didn't really had a good answer, as so often -- is me. But then somebody sent me the other day, Isaiah 49:16, and you need to go home and look it up. Before you look it up, I'll tell you what it says though. It says, hey, if it was good enough for God, scribbling on the palm of his hand, it's good enough for me, for us. He says, in that passage, 'I wrote your name on the palm of my hand to remember you,' and I'm like, 'Okay, I'm in good company.'
Above all, I feel a quiet pride that for the rest of my days I can look at myself in the mirror and know that once upon a time I was good enough. Good enough to call myself a member of the SAS. Some things don’t have a price tag.
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