Quotes About Summer

Once, each summer, I howl, and draw myself back, out of there

Generally the first week in September brings the hottest weather of the year, and this was no exception. Overhead the fans turned slow, their paddle blades stirring the air up close to the ceiling but nowheres else...

7 Mile is like an Ave. Back in the days it was poppin' in the summer time.

Is childhood ever long enough, or a happy time, or even a beautiful summer day? All of these carry the seeds of the same fierce mystery that we call death.

The idea of 'ferie,' or summer break, is a long tradition of which all Italians, including myself, participate. It's a time to relax, reflect and recharge.

I'm most excited about going swimming and riding water slides, shooting off fireworks, and playing basketball, and things like that. That's what I really love doing. Summer is a great time.

We are talking now of summer evenings in Knoxville, Tennessee, in the time that I lived there so successfully disguised to myself as a child.

I worked in television now for a few years. I think summer has become a really exciting time for television shows. And I think it's become a time for shows to distinguish themselves.

In July everybody you telephone is somewhere else - either on the beach or on vacation, and half the time you're somewhere else too.

The days were longer then (for time, like money, is measured by our needs), when summer afternoons were spacious, and the clock ticked slowly in the winter evenings.

We were enjoying one of those rare summers of utter freedom – no financial responsibility, no debts, no time owing to anybody.

Late August still feels like summer here in the Ozarks, but it is the time of year the nighthawks are moving on to their South American wintering grounds.

I fell in love with you when I saw you that summer, he said. I adored you for years afterward. You were so lovely, so pure, so totally unattainable.

I have gone and done something very silly, Becky, he said, flashing her a grin. I have fallen in love with you. You will think me very foolish, will you not, old friend? I have been fighting it all summer. I don't think you are foolish, Christopher, she said, gazing earnestly back at him. I have loved you for a long time.

Later that summer, as rain fell, such a moment shimmered and paused on the brink, and then began the ancient dance of numbers: two, four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two, and a new life took root and began to grow. And thus the generations past were joined to the unknowable future.

Hope—cruelest of the evils that escaped Pandora's box—smiled on him gently all that summer.

Aunt Blythe went inside to check on Great-grandfather, but I sat on the front steps and watched the sun sink behind the trees across the highway. A little chill crept across my skin. Summer was almost over. Soon my parents would return and I'd go back to Chicago. There would be no more midnight meetings in the attic. No croquet games with Hannah, no boxing lessons from John, no fights with Edward.

Before that summer, I had many times heard long-winded Baptist preachers take ten minutes to pray over card tables of potato salad and fried chicken at church picnics, but the way those sweating, red-faced men sat around on stacked pallets of lumber gulping oysters taught me most of what I knew about simple gladness.

And there you are on the shore, fitful and thoughtful, trying to attach them to an idea — some news of your own life. But the lilies are slippery and wild—they are devoid of meaning, they are simply doing, from the deepest spurs of their being, what they are impelled to do every summer. And so, dear sorrow, are you.

This is not just surprise and pleasure. This is not just beauty sometimes too hot to touch. This is not a blessing with a beginning and an end. This is not just a wild summer. This is not conditional.

Like the heron, who can only croak, who wishes he could sing, I wish I could sing. ... Each of us wears a shadow. But just now it is summer again and I am watching the lilies bow to each other, then slide on the wind and the tug of desire, close, close to one another. Soon now, I'll turn and start for home. And who knows, maybe Ill be singing.

I was waiting for you on the beach when Kathleen came along and invited me to go for a swim with her.

The pay worked out to about $1,000 a year—some five to ten times the earnings of the average unskilled laborer—with summers off. The job was immoral, and ugly to be sure, but probably less unpleasant than it sounds.

The pay worked out to about $1,000 a year—some five to ten times the earnings of the average unskilled laborer—with summers off.