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Someone in sentence

6034 examples of Someone in a sentence

And I was the only person walking around with a bare shoulder, and it burned every time someone stared at it.
But the research, and my experience, shows you only need about 30 seconds with someone to tell if you click.
So to do that, can we actually teach the computer to imitate the way someone talks by only showing it video footage of the person?
And yet, if you look at your work, could it be argued that your best work wasn't about you at all, it was about somebody else? Did your best work occur when you sidestepped your own ego and you stopped telling your story, but told someone else's story, someone perhaps without a voice, where empathetically, you stood in his shoes for a while or saw the world through his eyes?
So imagine someone who's coming out of that world, that late-19th-century world, coming into the country that I grew up in, Ghana, the society that I grew up in, Asante, coming into that world at the turn of the 20th century with this question that made the list: what have they got instead of Christianity?
Poems are easy to share, easy to pass on, and when you read a poem, you can imagine someone's speaking to you or for you, maybe even someone far away or someone made up or someone deceased.
That's why we can go to poems when we want to remember something or someone, to celebrate or to look beyond death or to say goodbye, and that's one reason poems can seem important, even to people who aren't me, who don't so much live in a world of words.
Poems, the patterns in poems, show us not just what somebody thought or what someone did or what happened but what it was like to be a person like that, to be so anxious, so lonely, so inquisitive, so goofy, so preposterous, so brave.
It's mysterious because it's probably unfinished, he probably left it unfinished, and because it might be meant for a character in a play, but it might just be Keats' thinking about what his own writing, his handwriting, could do, and in it I hear, at least I hear, mortality, and I hear the power of older poetic techniques, and I have the feeling, you might have the feeling, of meeting even for an instant, almost becoming, someone else from long ago, someone quite memorable.
And when someone that you love or a family member comes out, it may be easier to support their quest for equality.
I find it astounding that someone from the shadowy corners of cyberspace can become its voice of opposition, its last line of defense even, perhaps someone like Anonymous, the leading brand of global hacktivism.
I'd studied thousands of hours of physics, biology, chemistry, but not one hour, not one concept on how to mentor, how to guide someone to go together into the unknown, about motivation.
And you can go through the cloud not alone but together with someone who is your source of support to say "Yes, and" to your ideas, to help you say "Yes, and" to your own ideas, to increase the chance that, through the wisps of the cloud, you'll find that moment of calmness where you get your first glimpse of your unexpected discovery, your C. Thank you.
And they wait for me to go away and talk to someone else.
Each time I would begin to feel comfortable around someone, it was time to pack up and move to the next town.
She looked at me with the weary eyes of someone who had experienced enough dogmatism to last a lifetime, and said, "I'm tired of hating people."
I do it in the hopes that perhaps someone someday who is compelled to use violence may hear my story and realize that there is a better way, that although I had been subjected to this violent, intolerant ideology, that I did not become fanaticized.
Now, as exciting as that sounds, when I first started doing cyber — (Laughter) — when I first started doing cyber, I wasn't sure that sifting through ones and zeros was what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, because in my mind, cyber was keeping viruses off of my grandma's computer, it was keeping people's Myspace pages from being hacked, and maybe, maybe on my most glorious day, it was keeping someone's credit card information from being stolen.
They're the reason you can call 911 and get someone on the other line.
On the flip side, you find that there are end users that are desperately looking for someone that can make them a french fry machine, and you have scrap dealers who are looking how they can collect this scrap, process it, and turn it back into an input for new making.
If, in the future, someone tells you Agbogbloshie is the largest e-waste dump in the world, I hope you can correct them and explain to them that a dump is a place where you throw things away and leave them forever; a scrapyard is where you take things apart.
When we hold our newborn baby, love at first sight, or when we help someone in need, humans are uniquely able to give and receive love, and that's what differentiates us from AI.
In any case, someone would return a few months later and leave a note on Dad's kitchen table, which simply said, "Consider yourself dead."
Have you ever laughed or smiled when someone said something shitty to you and then spent the rest of the day wondering why you reacted that way?
Have you ever tried to guess someone else's password so many times that it locked their account?
Have you ever marveled at how someone you thought was so ordinary could suddenly become so beautiful?
Have you ever stared at your phone smiling like an idiot while texting with someone?
Have you ever been tempted to, and then gave in to the temptation, of looking through someone else's phone?
Have you ever woken up blissfully and suddenly been flooded by the awful remembrance that someone had left you?
I used to say in classes and lectures and stuff, to someone who wants to write, "Go! Write!
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