Street Vendor Quotes

When I was 13, I opened my own business called The Awesome Pretzel Company, and my dad helped me build a pretzel cart.

It's definitely been a long, long... long, long, long, long, long journey since I was selling burnt CD's out of my backpack in downtown Oakland.

I don't have the proportions for 'hood hot.'

I am wary of unknown street food, available in plenty in places such as Singapore and Malaysia.

The man was running away with the rest, and selling his papers for a shilling each as he ran—a grotesque mingling of profit and panic.

The Department of Agriculture announced that it will ban six new strains of E. coli. Which explains why the hot dog vendor outside my building is now just selling napkins.

It's a farmers market. You can get whatever - peaches, a sandwich. There might be a little band there. I'd sit in with the band. Yeah, that's what I would do. Sit in with the band at the farmers market. Sing a couple of songs, eat a peach, and hug people.

I was selling stuff probably since I could remember, like 6 or 7 years old. I was always out there helping my mom and dad sell watches, glasses, CDs, DVDs, stuff like that. Whatever we could put our hands on. I did it until I was around 17. But I was just doing it because I had to. There was no other option.

My first job, which I had to take when not more than fifteen, was assistant to a fruit peddler. It seemed all right to me until a little girl told me snootily, 'We never deal with peddler!' Thereupon I resigned, ashamed of what I was doing.

So now I'm 'the hot dog guy,' which isn't bad. I take it in stride. It's not like it was my goal in life. I'm having fun with it.

A crier of green sauce.

In a typical day, I would wake up about 8 A.M., pile all my stuff into my mom's minivan - my guitar, my amp, CDs to sell, a table and a rug - drive it down to the street, and unload it all. I'd wait until about 12, then play for two hours. You could only play in two-hour intervals, so then I would move it all somewhere else.

'Man Push Cart' is very similar to 'Take Out.'

I used to run around barefoot and climb trees and pick fruit and sell it on the side of the road like a real island girl.

My father's family were Italian ice cream men, and the knowledge was passed on, so I ran an ice cream van while I was dating my wife.

My grandfather taught me generosity. He sold snow cones in Harlem. I went with him at 5 and he let me hand out the change and snow cones. I learned a lot in the couple of years that we did that.

I plan to live to be 98, so I'll be the guy at Dundas and Yonge flogging a box of mouldy novels.

On a whim, he stopped and bought a watch from a sidewalk vendor. Normally, Billy could not abide keeping time, especially when it was attached to one’s body. Time was like a relentlessly needy lapdog one had to haul around. It barked too much and had no sense of loyalty.

I was born in Queens, New York. I've done every job you could think of in New York. Selling peanuts to Larry Fresh Fruit ices to dog walker to unloading trucks at the Jacob Javits Center.

I consider a perfect hot dog on the street to be as valid a food experience as dinner at Blue Hill at Stone Barns.

I suppose I will go on selling newspapers until at last will come the late night final.

I was in tailoring business, I sold flowers on the street, I worked construction and many odd jobs.

A guy came up to me in the park and asked if I wanted to buy his CD. I said sure. He got panicked and told me he didn't actually have a CD, and he started crying and then told me he never made it and he's really sorry and called me 'Ralph.' New York's a really weird place.

I used to work selling ice lollies and sweets on the road. I worked at a car wash as well.

I've always loved dogs and have had one since I was three. We bought her from a kid selling puppies out of a cardboard box on the street where we lived in New York City. Great dog. We named her 'Marcella' after a Raggedy Ann character. She grew up with us.