The band paraded the streets.

The streets are laid out quite well.

I want to see the streets.

Flashing lights transmit messages between ships and to motorists along city streets.

I strolled along the streets to kill time.

Our streets flood when we have rain.

The streets are filled with an air of exoticism.

The streets of New York are very wide.

It was a cold and rainy night, and there was not a soul in sight in the streets.

The city has many broad streets.

They fine you in Singapore if you throw trash in the streets.

This crowd reminds me of the streets of Tokyo.

The two streets run parallel to one another.

The two streets intersect at right angles.

Police immediately sealed off the streets around the hotel as they searched for the bomb.

In ancient Rome, the bodyguards who surrounded the wealthy and powerful to protect them when they walked the streets, were called satellites.

Streets and houses were drowned by the flood.

Streets are often twisted and narrow in the suburbs.

At first they drove through streets of small, gray houses.

Children are open to the influence of the streets.

We walked up and down the streets of Kyoto.

My suggestion is for more trees to be planted along the streets.

I wandered about the streets all day.

Before automobiles filled out streets, city air used to be clean.

People massed along the streets to watch the parade.

Holes gaped open in the streets after the earthquake.

I spent my time strolling about the streets.

Because of the icy streets, we could not drive the car.

If there is a lot of traffic in the streets, we say in English that the traffic is heavy.

The streets were decorated with flags.

The streets are alive with shoppers.

Crossing guards are posted during school hours to guide children safely across busy streets.

Shoppers crowded the streets.

He guided the man through the streets to the station.

He walked about the streets.

He walked the streets looking for his son.

They cleared the streets of snow.

It is hard to keep our balance on icy streets.

They are moving from the peaceful hills and the countryside to the busy world of streets and crowds.

Mothers should keep their children from playing in the streets.

The streets of Hokkaido are very wide.

The streets in Hokkaido are wide.

The streets emptied in the night.

The streets are in full Christmas mode - it's almost Christmas Eve.

I want to thank my partner in this journey, a man who campaigned from his heart, and spoke for the men and women he grew up with on the streets of Scranton, and rode with on the train home to Delaware, the vice president-elect of the United States, Joe Biden.

There weren't any flowers or trees on the streets of his town.

The main streets are very wide.

Our streets flood when it rains.

There were hundreds of people milling about in the streets.

The main streets of many small towns have been all but abandoned thanks, in large part, to behemoths like Wal-Mart.

There were neither flowers nor trees in the streets of his city.

On weekdays, shopping streets swarm with people hurrying and rushing along.

What bustle in the streets!

The streets in Tokyo are full on Saturdays.

People were told to stay indoors because of the violence in the streets.

There is no such thing, at this stage of the world’s history in America, as an independent press. You know it and I know it. There is not one of you who dare write your honest opinions, and if you did, you know beforehand that it would never appear in print. I am paid weekly for keeping my honest opinions out of the paper I am connected with. Others of you are paid similar salaries for similar things, and any of you who would be foolish as to write honest opinions would be out on the streets looking for another job. If I allowed my honest opinions to appear in one issue of my papers, before twenty-four hours my occupation would be gone. The business of the journalist is to destroy the truth, to lie outright, to pervert, to vilify, to fawn at the feet of Mammon, and to sell his country and his race for his daily bread. You know it and I know it, and what folly is this toasting an independent press? We are the jumping jacks, they pull the strings and we dance. Our talents, our possibilities and our lives are all the property of other men. We are intellectual prostitutes.

Before now, when you thought of a city, you thought of crowded streets, parking problems, traffic jams, queues, noise and fumes.

These streets see more and more outbreaks of vigilante violence.

They slept on public streets, buses, or trains.

They marched in a parade through the streets of Paris.

Cuban soldiers were guarding the streets.

People danced in the streets.

There was fighting in the streets.

You'll never find the way back home, through narrow streets of cobblestone.

The Boy Scout has been directing old ladies across streets since 2004.

The law, in its majestic equality, forbids the rich as well as the poor to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal bread.

You will take one of the streets.

It doesn't snow the whole time through in Russia and there are also no bears running in the streets.

I want to go see the streets.

Gontran often played with Olga in the streets of Nîmes.

There is no such thing, at this stage of the world’s history in the United States, as an independent press. You know it and I know it. There is not one of you who dare write your honest opinions, and if you did, you know beforehand that it would never appear in print. I am paid weekly for keeping my honest opinions out of the paper I am connected with. Others of you are paid similar salaries for similar things, and any of you who would be foolish as to write honest opinions would be out on the streets looking for another job. If I allowed my honest opinions to appear in one issue of my papers, before twenty-four hours my occupation would be gone. The business of the journalist is to destroy the truth, to lie outright, to pervert, to vilify, to fawn at the feet of Mammon, and to sell his country and his race for his daily bread. You know it and I know it, and what folly is this toasting an independent press? We are the jumping jacks, they pull the strings and we dance. Our talents, our possibilities and our lives are all the property of other men. We are intellectual prostitutes.

My thoughts are stuck in the web of Lviv's streets.

My thoughts are stuck in the web of the streets of Lviv.

Tom was running around the streets drunk and naked.

By seven o'clock in the evening, the streets are deserted in this town.

The streets here are empty by 7.

The streets were empty.

The streets are clean.

People walk on the sidewalk. Cars cross the streets.

He ran through the streets naked.

They ran through the streets naked.

Some people believe that polar bears walk around freely in the streets of Norway. Luckily, it's just nonsense.

The words in my head form streets and buildings, entire cities. I want to take you there.

It was night, and a veil of darkness covered the streets.

It was already past seven, and the darkness slowly consumed the houses and the streets.

The police in Warsaw were in the habit of searching people in the streets.

You cannot walk the streets in such a strange outfit.

These boys often play in the little streets.

The streets are flooded.

There is no such thing, at this stage of the world’s history in The United States of America, as an independent press. You know it and I know it. There is not one of you who dare write your honest opinions, and if you did, you know beforehand that it would never appear in print. I am paid weekly for keeping my honest opinions out of the paper I am connected with. Others of you are paid similar salaries for similar things, and any of you who would be foolish as to write honest opinions would be out on the streets looking for another job. If I allowed my honest opinions to appear in one issue of my papers, before twenty-four hours my occupation would be gone. The business of the journalist is to destroy the truth, to lie outright, to pervert, to vilify, to fawn at the feet of Mammon, and to sell his country and his race for his daily bread. You know it and I know it, and what folly is this toasting an independent press? We are the jumping jacks, they pull the strings and we dance. Our talents, our possibilities and our lives are all the property of other men. We are intellectual prostitutes.

All afternoon a violent storm scoured the little town's streets.

Three streets, as well as a park and a hospital.

Chongqing is a hilly city with winding streets.

The water flooded the streets.

Therefore when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory of men. Verily I say unto you, they have their reward.

When the city was liberated, people lined the streets throwing confetti.

The streets were overflowing with young couples.

In the cold and the darkness, a poor little girl, with bare head and naked feet, roamed through the streets.

They were following different streets.

They were taking different streets.

The main streets of many villages have in fact been abandoned. The main reason is the advance of big stores like Wal-Mart.