Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains...
The Indian Summer of life should be a little sunny and a little sad, like the season, and infinite in wealth and depth of tone, but never hustled.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
Be intent upon the perfection of the present day.
To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June
How sociable the garden was. We ate and talked in given light. The children put their toys to grass All the warm wakeful August night.
Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night.
What is more gentle than a wind is summer?
There is no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.
Spring is the time of year when it is summer in the sun and winter in the shade.
I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.
No price is set on the lavish summer; June may be had by the poorest comer.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date . . .
The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning.
If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance.
Blessed be the Lord for the beauty of summer and spring, for the air, the water, the verdure, and the song of birds.
Summer makes a silence after spring.
Now is the winter of our discontent.
Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance. Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence. Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance.
But a girl of seventeen is not always thinking of books, especially in the Oxford summer term.
It will not always be summer: build barns.
O for a summer noon, when light and breeze Sport on the grass, like ripples o'er a lake Alive with freshness! when the full round Sun, With the Creator's smile upon his face, Walks like a prince of glory through the path Of Heaven! - Thou vast, and ever-glorious sky, Mantling the earth with thy majestic robe.
The last of Summer is Delight - Deterred by Retrospect. 'Tis Ecstasy's revealed Review - Enchantment's Syndicate. To meet it - nameless as it is - Without celestial Mail - Audacious as without a Knock To walk within the Veil.
To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—
It's a sure sign of summer if the chair gets up when you do.
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