Browsing Topic Best Summer Quotes

I have wished you dead and myself dead. How could it be otherwise. I have broken into you like a burglar. And you’ve set your dogs on me. And a pile of broken sticks. A child could kick. I have climbed you like a monument, gasoing, For the exercise and the view, And leaned over the railing at the top… Strong and warm, the summer wind.

I work a lot in the summers. My family goes to Maine, where we have a little house. My wife’s a writer, too, and we can write for six hours a day and then play with the kids.

[What for] was the first question he asked about any activity proposed to him – and nothing would make him act, if he found no valid answer. He flew through the days of his summer month like a rocket, but if one stopped him in mid-flight, he could always name the purpose of his every random moment. Two things were impossible to him: to stand still or to move aimlessly.

I have a love affair with tomatoes and corn. I remember them from my childhood. I only had them in the summer. They were extraordinary.

To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.

Every spring he vowed to quit teaching school, and every summer he missed his pupils and searched for them on the streets.

I was up at Big Sur with Christopher Reeve and Christine Lahti, doing this woman in a big fat-suit – Mrs. Bassett in Tennessee Williams’ Summer And Smoke – and my husband was in the show too, playing Lahti’s fiancée. Every night he’d be proposing to beautiful Christine Lahti, and I’d barrel onstage in this fat-suit. I hated it! But I did it, because by then I knew that that was my casting.

I have a total irreverence for anything connected with society except that which makes the roads safer, the beer stronger, the food cheaper and the old men and old women warmer in the winter and happier in the summer.

And I remembered with a pang what had happened to me the previous summer – that even Gallagher Girls aren’t always as strong as they need to be.

Conceive a jelly-fish such as sails in our summer seas, bell-shaped and of enormous size – far larger, I should judge, than the dome of St. Paul’s. It was of a light pink colour veined with a delicate green, but the whole huge fabric so tenuous that it was but a fairy outline against the dark blue sky. It pulsated with a delicate and regular rhythm. From it there depended two long drooping, green tentacles, which swayed slowly backwards and forwards. This gorgeous vision passed gently with noiseless dignity over my head, as light and fragile as a soap-bubble, and drifted upon its stately way.

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.

All of it seems like noise and false light, and all I want for tonight is quiet, the black and gray of a summer night, and a girl in a pink dress, beside me forever.

Now I wonder who is gonna be president: Tweedle Dumb, or Tweedle Dumber– And who is gonna have the big block buster box office this summer.

It’s possible to have more than one interest. I’ve been a painter and did summer stock.

I fell in love with Erica Kane the summer before my freshman year of high school. Like all red-blooded teen American boys, I’d come home from water polo practice and eat a box of Entenmann’s Pop’Ems donut holes in front of the TV while obsessively fawning over ‘All My Children’ and Erica, her clothes, and her narcissistic attitude.

And it seemed to me that there were fires Flying till dawn without number And I never found out things-those Strange eyes of his-what colour? Everything trembling and singing and Were you my enemy or my friend, Winter was it or summer?

Scientists with access to data from Navy submarines traversing underneath the North polar ice cap have warned that there is now a 75 percent chance that within five years the entire ice cap will completely disappear during the summer months.

I grew out my armpit hair for the summer. It turns out my natural hair colour isn’t blonde.

But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat,The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat,To closer shades the panting flocks remove;Ye gods! And is there no relief for love?

Flies are the price we pay for summer.

I kind of knew something was going on, and my older brothers and sisters were singing be-boppish kinds of stuff in the living room, and I was listening. I started singing, warmer than a summer night, at seven or eight years old.

Ye flowers that drop, forsaken by the spring,Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing,Ye trees that fade, when Autumn heats remove,Say, is not absence death to those who love?

Last summer was probably the biggest disappointment of my career, but now I have something bad with which to balance the good. I will no longer take anything for granted.

The prediction that glaciers will be gone from Glacier National Park has been moved up by 10 years to 2020, the same year it’s predicted the Arctic Sea will be ice-free in the summer.

To the outside world, of course, this job is a cinch: 9 to 3, five days a week, two months’ summer vacation with pay, all legal holidays, prestige and respect. My mother, for example, has the pleasant notion that my day consists of nodding graciously to the rustle of starched curtsies and a chorus of respectful voices bidding me good morning.

Watching the animals come and go, and feeling the land swell up to meet them and then feeling it grow still at their departure, I came to think of the migrations as breath, as the land breathing. In spring a great inhalation of light and animals. The long-bated breath of summer. And an exhalation that propelled them all south in the fall.

Spring has many American faces. There are cities where it will come and go in a day and counties where it hangs around and never quite gets there. Summer is drawn blinds in Louisiana, long winds in Wyoming, shade of elms and maples in New England.

So the Midwest nourishes us […] and presents us with the spectacle of a land and a people completed and certain. And so we run to our bedrooms and read in a fever, and love the big hardwood trees outside the windows, and the terrible Midwest summers, and the terrible Midwest winters […]. And so we leave it sorrowfully, having grown strong and restless by opposing with all our will and mind and muscle its simple, loving, single will for us: that we stay, that we stay and find a place among its familiar possibilities. Mother knew we would go; she encouraged us.

The summer has seized you, as when, last month in Amalfi, I saw lemons as large as your desk-side globe-that miniature map of the world-and I could mention, too, the market stalls of mushrooms and garlic bugs all engorged. Or I even think of the orchard next door, where the berries are done and the apples are beginning to swell. And once, with our first backyard,I remember I planted an acre of yellow beans we couldn’t eat.

All summer long; we’ll be playing the festivals. We’ll be Reading, we’ll be Leeds, we’ll be around.

Serene was a word you could put to Brooklyn New York. Especially in the summer of 1912. Somber as a word was better. But it did not apply to Williamsburg Brooklyn. Prairie was lovely and Shenandoah had a beautiful sound but you couldn’t fit those words into Brooklyn. Serene was the only word for it especially on a Saturday afternoon in summer.

Summer was here again. Summer, summer, summer. I loved and hated summers. Summers had a logic all their own and they always brought something out in me. Summer was supposed to be about freedom and youth and no school and possibilities and adventure and exploration. Summer was a book of hope. That’s why I loved and hated summers. Because they made me want to believe.

One swallow does not make a summer, but one skein of geese, cleaving the murk of March thaw, is the Spring.

The good thing is in my case I’m all about love and communications, so there was no hard feelings, it was like ok we reached the end of this season and I wish you well and it’s time to move on. As a pop song it’s definitely open to many different interpretations, I received a call from a cousin saying that it helped her heal after an abusive relationship and another friend said it represented her of a summer fling. We tried to write carefully so that it can be relatable to cover a wide audience.

If you wish women to love you be original; I know a man who used to wear felt boots summer and winter & women fell in love with him.