Summer Quotes - Page 7

• At about the age of ten, during a late summer visit to Sears to buy school clothes, I became aware of the concept of candy by the pound.

  Steve Almond

  School, Clothes, Age

  Steve Almond (2004). “Candyfreak: A Journey through the Chocolate Underbelly of America”, p.21, Algonquin Books

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• As Summer into Autumn slips
  And yet we sooner say
  "The Summer" than "the Autumn," lest
  We turn the sun away,
  
  And almost count it an Affront
  The presence to concede
  Of one however lovely, not
  The one that we have loved -
  
  So we evade the charge of Years
  On one attempting shy
  The Circumvention of the Shaft
  Of Life's Declivity.

  Emily Dickinson

  Autumn, Years, Lovely

  Emily Dickinson, Martha Dickinson Bianchi (1971). “The Life and Letters of Emily Dickinson”, p.285, Biblo & Tannen Publishers

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• One summer night, out on a flat headland, all but surrounded by the waters of the bay, the horizons were remote and distant rims on the edge of space.

  Rachel Carson

  Night, August, Space

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• the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color. Often at night there is lightning, but it quivers all alone. There is no thunder, no relieving rain. These are strange and breathless days, the dog days, when people are led to do things they are sure to be sorry for.

  Natalie Babbitt

  Dog, Sorry, Rain

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• Summer-induced stupidity. That was the diagnosis.

  Aimee Friedman

  Stupidity, Diagnosis, Summer Sun

  Aimee Friedman (2012). “Ocean of Secrets”, p.148, Scholastic UK

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• Oh, father's gone to market-town, he was up before the day,
  And Jamie's after robins, and the man is making hay,
  And whistling down the hollow goes the boy that minds the mill,
  While mother from the kitchen door is calling with a will,
  "Polly!-Polly!-
  The cows are in the corn!
  Oh, where's Polly?"

  Richard Watson Gilder

  Mother, Father, Boys

  Richard Watson Gilder (1885). “Lyrics”

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• Let your children be as so many flowers, borrowed from God. If the flowers die or wither, thank God for a summer loan of them.

  Samuel Rutherford

  Children, Flower, August

  Samuel Rutherford (1765). “Joshua redivivus, or Mr Rutherford's letters”, p.56

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• Lord, what fools these mortals be!

  William Shakespeare

  Dream, Stupid People, Stupidity

  'A Midsummer Night's Dream' (1595-6) act 3, sc. 2, l. 115

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• You're off to Great Places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting, So... get on your way!

  Dr. Seuss

  Inspirational, Life, Positive

  Theodor Seuss Geisel, “Oh, The Places You'll Go”

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• I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.

  William Shakespeare

  Dream, Sweet, Flower

  'A Midsummer Night's Dream' (1595-6) act 2, sc. 1, l. 249

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• A thin grey fog hung over the city, and the streets were very cold; for summer was in England.

  Rudyard Kipling

  Fog, Cities, England

  Rudyard Kipling (2016). “The Light That Failed”, p.30, Rudyard Kipling

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• You can't ascribe great cosmic significance to a simple earthly event. Coincidence, that's all anything ever is, nothing more than coincidence...

  Scott Neustadter

  Simple, Events, Coincidence

  "500 Days of Summer". www.imdb.com. 2009.

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• Most days of the year are unremarkable. They begin and they end with no lasting memory made in between. Most days have no impact on the course of a life.

  Scott Neustadter

  Memories, Impact, Years

  "500 Days of Summer". www.imdb.com. 2009.

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• Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.

  William Shakespeare

  Spring, Wind, Poetry

  Sonnet 18

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• There's no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing

  Ranulph Fiennes

  Running, Adventure, Weather

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• It's a cruel season that makes you get ready for bed while it's light out.

  Bill Watterson

  Sleep, Light, Bed

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• The tendinous part of the mind, so to speak, is more developed in winter; the fleshy, in summer. I should say winter had given the bone and sinew to literature, summer the tissues and the blood.

  John Burroughs

  Winter, June, Blood

  John Burroughs (1875). “Winter Sunshine”, p.53

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• In lang, lang days o' simmer,
  When the clear and cloudless sky
  Refuses ae weep drap o' rain
  To Nature parched and dry,
  The genial night, wi' balmy breath,
  Gars verdue, spring anew,
  An' ilka blade o' grass
  Keps its ain drap o' dew.

  James Ballantine

  Spring, Rain, Night

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• O for a lodge in a garden of cucumbers!
  O for an iceberg or two at control!
  O for a vale that at midday the dew cumbers!
  O for a pleasure trip up to the pole!

  Rossiter Johnson

  Garden, July, Two

  Rossiter Johnson (1902). “Morning Lights and Evening Shadows”

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• All labours draw hame at even,
  And can to others say,
  "Thanks to the gracious God of heaven,
  Whilk sent this summer day."

  Alexander Hume

  July, Heaven, Thanks

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• 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?

  Alexander Pope

  Shade, Murmuring, Retreat

  Alexander Pope, Henry Francis Cary (1841). “The Poetical Works of Alexander Pope. Edited by the Rev. H. F. Cary, Etc”, p.7

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• Now simmer blinks on flowery braes, And o'er the crystal streamlet plays.

  Robert Burns

  Play, Crystals, Blink

  Robert Burns, P. A. N., Robert Eldridge Aris WILLMOTT (1866). “The Poetical Works of Robert Burns. Edited by the Rev. Robert Aris Willmott. New Edition. With Numerous Additions. [The Preface Signed: P. A. N.]”, p.169

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• Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with its usual severity.

  Charles Lamb

  Writing, Usual, Severity

  Charles Lamb (2008). “The Life, Letters, and Writings of Charles Lamb”, p.117, Cosimo, Inc.

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• Very hot and still the air was, Very smooth the gliding river, Motionless the sleeping shadows.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Sleep, Rivers, Air

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1871). “The Poetical Works”, p.241

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• 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. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.

  Natalie Babbitt

  Spring, Sunset, Autumn

  Natalie Babbitt (2015). “Tuck Everlasting”, p.3, Macmillan

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