Quotes About Summer

In high summer males can be very common. They sit around on flowers drinking nectar. They prefer flowers with big sturdy heads such as thistles and natweeds and gangs of males can often be seen clustered together, reminiscent of a group of men propping up the bar in a pub.

Our whole family assembles in Chicago at Christmas and usually in Aspen in the summer.

A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken.

So beautiful was that summer that those who survived it invested it with a golden haze; it assumed a retrospective poignancy, as if before it, all had been beautiful, and after it, nothing ever was again. It became the summer that the world ended, and it was somehow fitting that it should therefore be the most glorious summer ever.

A cursory review of the campaign reveals the pleasure ride of General Fitzhugh Lee by Louisa Court-House as most unseasonable. He lost the fruits of our summer's work, and lost the Southern cause. Proud Troy was laid in ashes.

A scent of jasmine and a rasp of sand.

this is the last house in summer and now is the double loneliness of missing a party you don't even want to be at.

There is no price set on the lavish summer, And June may be had by the poorest comer.

With the striped umbrella and the pistachio ices?

Lincoln was as calm and unruffled as the summer sea in moments of the gravest peril;

When he first returned to the Badlands in the summer of 1884, the austere landscape seemed to mirror his melancholy.

Anyone who can go through Hyde Park on a summer's evening and not feel moved by it is probably going through in an ambulance with the sheet pulled over their face.

The summer sun was sinking through the trees in the [ark, looking as if -lets not mince words. Hyde Park is stunning. Everything about it is stunning except for the rubbish on Monday mornings. Even the ducks are stunning. Anyone who can go through Hyde Park on a summer's evening and not feel moved by it is probably going through in an ambulance with the sheet pulled over his face.

I pray the gods some respite from the weary task of this long year's watch that lying on the Atreidae's roof on bended arm, doglike, I have kept, marking the conclave of all the night's stars, those potentates blazing in the heavens that bring winter and summer to mortal men, the constellations, when they wane, when they rise.

If you were foolish enough to sing all summer, you must dance supperless to bed in the winter.

I suppose without curiosity a man would be a tortoise. Very comfortable life, a tortoise has. Goes to sleep all winter and doesn't eat anything more than grass as far as I know, to live all the summer. Not an interesting life perhaps, but a very peaceful one.

The parsley sinking into the butter on a hot day,

Summer-induced stupidity. That was the diagnosis, I decided as I made my way up the dirt path in the pouring rain.

Summer-induced stupidity. That was the diagnosis...

There's this magical sense of possibility that stretches like a bridge between June and August. A sense that anything can happen.

But, standing in the fading golden sunlight now, I can feel some of the scars of the summer stabbing over. I can feel the promise of a new beginning.

the firefly … only appears in summer, with the stink of meats sizzling somewhere down the street, and the mouths of neighborhood children stained with popsicle juice and hinging open with the excitement of a ball game or tag.

Our kitchen is a riot of pots, wooden spoons, melted butter. So be it. Maybe all this baking will quiet the angry voices next door, if only for a brief whiff. I want our summers to always be like this—a kitchen wrecked with love, a table overflowing with baked goods warming the already warm air. After all the pots are stacked, the goodies cooled, and all the counters wiped clean—let us never be rescued from this mess.

I spent most of my seventh grade summer dehydrated, green-tongued, and smelling like a Malaysian whorehouse.