Sentences with phrase «never run out of room»

With secure cloud storage, your albums will always be backed up and you'll never run out of room.

You will never run out of room in this car.

Not exact matches

Because the stroller straps are attached directly to the bag you never have to worry again about running out of storage room in your stroller or having to lug around a heavy diaper bag during a quick trip to the mall.

This wallet is designed to hold up to 10 cards, so you'll never have to worry about running out of room for all your cards.

Opening with one of film history's most wooden leading men, Paul Walker, and «nice Jewish boy» comic relief Jason Biggs sitting in a hundred - degree steam room before running out into a 30 - below autumn day in Antarctica, Eight Below immediately teaches us that human beings heated to a toasty 110 degrees do not steam when exposed to sub-zero temperatures and, more, that if you should ever visit the South Pole, your breath will never, ever show.

The Kindle Fire has 8 GB of onboard storage, but Amazon offers a unique way of storing items so you never really run out of room.

The condo comes with a laundry room that has a full size washer and dryer so you never run out of fresh clean clothes.

Designed to ensure you never run out of choices, Hacienda Tres Ríos offers various dining and snack options and 24 - hour room service all included in our all inclusive plan.

These luxury water villas in Maldives will never let you run out of room to wander, lounge, revel and relax with a super-spacious sundeck, where an oversized infinity plunge pool and sophisticated design elements surprise in style at every turn.

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,

I would FINISH painting my dining room (yes, I ran out of paint and never finished) and also put frames around my 2 generic bathroom mirrors — I've been wanting to do that for a long time, too!

You'll never run out of uses for this in your dorm room, I promise.

But at some point, we ran out of steam and never really finished the ceiling or the floor in there, so we took advantage of another burst of DIY energy a couple weeks ago, and went back to work on Project: Dining Room.