Quotes on Summer

The fire is the main comfort of the camp, whether in summer or winter

Some people plant in the spring and leave in the summer. If you're signed up for a season, see it through. You don't have to stay forever, but at least stay until you see it through.

My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,_x000D_ _x000D_ My tears like vinegar,_x000D_ _x000D_ Or the bitter blinking yellow_x000D_ _x000D_ Of an acetic star._x000D_ _x000D_ Tonight the caustic wind, love,_x000D_ _x000D_ Gossips late and soon,_x000D_ _x000D_ And I wear the wry-faced pucker of_x000D_ _x000D_ The sour lemon moon._x000D_ _x000D_ While like an early summer plum,_x000D_ _x000D_ Puny, green, and tart,_x000D_ _x000D_ Droops upon its wizened stem_x000D_ _x000D_ My lean, unripened heart.

Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?

By some chance, here they are, all on this earth; and who shall ever tell the sorrow of being on this earth, lying, on quilts, on the grass in a summer evening, among the sounds of the night. May God bless my people, my uncle, my aunt, my mother, my good father, oh, remember them kindly in their time of trouble; and in the hour of their taking away.

The moment I stopped spending so much time chasing the big pleasure of life. I began to enjoy the little ones, like watching the stars dancing in moonlit sky or soaking in the sunbeams of a glorious summer morning.

One must ask children and birds how cherries and strawberries taste.

Researchers at the Naval Postgraduate School have told us that the entire Arctic ice cap may totally disappear in summer in as little as five years if nothing is done to curb emissions of greenhouse gas pollution.

With a tear for the dark past, turn we then to the dazzling future, and, veiling our eyes, press forward. The long and weary winter of the race is ended. Its summer has begun. Humanity has burst the chrysalis. The heavens are before it.

It is indeed immensely picturesque. I can fancy sitting all a summer's day watching its shadows shorten and lengthen again, and drawing a delicious contrast between the world's duration and the feeble span of individual experience. There is something in Stonehenge almost reassuring; and if you are disposed to feel that life is rather a superficial matter, and that we soon get to the bottom of things, the immemorial gray pillars may serve to remind you of the enormous background of time.

It is ever so with the things that Men begin: there is a frost in Spring, or a blight in Summer, and they fail of their promise.

Last dance with Mary Jane_x000D_ One more time to kill the pain_x000D_ I feel summer creepin' in and I'm_x000D_ Tired of this town again

You know, when you get your first asparagus, or your first acorn squash, or your first really good tomato of the season, those are the moments that define the cook's year. I get more excited by that than anything else.

But Winter has yet brighter scenes-he boasts_x000D_ _x000D_ Splendors beyond what gorgeous Summer knows;_x000D_ _x000D_ Or Autumn with his many fruits, and woods_x000D_ _x000D_ All flushed with many hues.

Spring still makes spring in the mind_x000D_ _x000D_ When sixty years are told:_x000D_ _x000D_ Love wakes anew this throbbing heart,_x000D_ _x000D_ And we are never old_x000D_ _x000D_ Over the winter glaciers_x000D_ _x000D_ I see the summer glow_x000D_ _x000D_ And through the wind-piled snowdrift_x000D_ _x000D_ The warm rosebuds below.

I please myself with the graces of the winter scenery, and believe that we are as much touched by it as by the genial influences of summer.

Through winter-time we call on spring,_x000D_ _x000D_ And through the spring on summer call,_x000D_ _x000D_ And when the abounding hedges ring_x000D_ _x000D_ Declare that winter's best of all:_x000D_ _x000D_ And after that there's nothing good_x000D_ _x000D_ Because the spring time has not come-_x000D_ _x000D_ Not know that what disturbs our blood_x000D_ _x000D_ Is but its longing for the tomb.

Before the beginning of years There came to the making of man Time with a gift of tears, Grief with a glass that ran, Pleasure with pain for leaven, Summer with flowers that fell, Remembrance fallen from heaven, And Madness risen from hell, Strength without hands to smite, Love that endures for a breath; Night, the shadow of light, And Life, the shadow of death.

Who could believe in the prophecies ... that the world would end this summer, while one milkweed with faith matured its seeds.

Nature is a tropical swamp in sunshine, on whose purlieus we hear the song of summer birds, and see prismatic dewdrops, - but her interiors are terrific, full of hydras and crocodiles.

Life is fleeting. And if you're ever distressed, cast your eyes to the summer sky when when the stars are strung across the velvety night. And when a shooting star streaks through the blackness, turning night into day... make a wish and think of me.