The ballparks have gotten too crowded. That's why nobody goes to see the game anymore.
On why he no longer went to Ruggeri's, a St. Louis restaurant: "Nobody goes there anymore because it's too crowded."
Nobody comes here anymore, its too crowded
I don't really like L.A. much anymore. It's a hideous city. The weather's nice sometimes. It's just too crowded for me and too claustrophobic and too aggressive and too scary, and too chaotic. Did I say chaotic already? I like the country. I like quiet.
London was a real dump in the 70s, when it belonged to me and my friends, because, like most cities, you kind of hand them off. You're in charge for a bit and then you don't go out anymore. You say, "Oh god, it's going to be too crowded."
A baby's a full time job for three adults. Nobody tells you that when you're pregnant, or you'd probably jump off a bridge. Nobody tells you how all-consuming it is to be a mother-how reading goes out the window and thinking too.
I've been in love and it doesn't last. And when it's over, it's hell for a while. And then one discovers that life goes on. Eventually, one falls in love again. This pattern repeats itself until one is too jaded to believe in it anymore, or too old for all the upheaval.
I claim that space is part of our culture. You've heard complaints that nobody knows the names of the astronauts, that nobody gets excited about launches, that nobody cares anymore except people in the industry. I don't believe that for a minute.
Asia's crowded and Europe's too old, Africa is far too hot and Canada's too cold. And South America stole our name, let's drop the big one.
We feel crowded by other people; we feel crowded by social rules; we feel crowded by ourselves, mainly.
It's not like that anymore really, but back in the day, nobody would let the Misfits open up for them, not the Ramones, not the Cramps, nobody.
You don't want to seem too eager, too romantic - otherwise, it just looks a bit try-hard. But I do think that a first date should be intimate. So I'd choose a nice dinner somewhere cozy, not too crowded, with good wine.
Nobody cooks anymore. To me, to watch your parents cook, and to have a house that smells warm and delicious, is a very vital memory that I think kids don't really have anymore.
I remember, the first few years here, I didn't like London much: too big, too crowded, the physical difficulty of getting around.
Nobody really wants to work anymore. Nobody has the dedication to say, "It's going to take me ten years to get through this thing."
There's nobody to believe in anymore, nobody to trust.