I've never understood why people run to get out of the rain in the summertime... People will drive miles and miles to go jump in a cool swimming hole, but when it rains, they scatter.
Summer, summer, summertime time to sit back and unwind.
As one sits here in summertime and listens to the cuckoo and all the other bird songs, the crackling and buzzing of insects, as one gazes at the shining colors of flowers, doth one become dumbstruck before the Kingdom of the Creator.
I drive a lot in the summertime, but after that, I don't drive if there's snow predicted for anywhere in 500 miles.
I don't make speeches. I just let my bat speak for me in the summertime.
We know summer is the height of of being alive. We don't believe in God or the prospect of an afterlife mostly, so we know that we're only given eighty summers or so per lifetime, and each one has to be better then the last, has to encompass a trip to that arts center up at Bard, a seemingly mellow game of badminton over at some yahoo's Vermont cottage, and a cool, wet, slightly dangerous kayak trip down an unforgiving river. Otherwise, how would you know that you have lived your summertime best? What is you missed out on some morsel of shaded nirvana?
I have a passion for ballad. . . . They are the gypsy children of song, born under green hedgerows in the leafy lanes and bypaths of literature,--in the genial Summertime.
It's a cruel season that makes you get ready for bed while it's light out.
That it would always be summer and autumn, and you always courting me, and always thinking as much of me as you have done through the past summertime!
And red is not the color of apples or roses or the dresses that pretty girls wear in the summertime. That is not the color of red at all.
Life has many changes. Tomorrow it may rain, and it's supposed to be sunshine, 'cause it's summertime. But God's got a funny soul, he plays like Charlie Parker.
Lately I've been falling asleep listening to 'Common One' by Van Morrison, specifically the song 'Summertime in England.' It's 15 minutes long, so to make it through the entire song is a real task unto itself, but Van has that emotional payoff that makes even his most tiresome songs more powerful than most people's entire catalog.
I totally forget about snowboarding in the summertime.
I go out and salsa with friends, especially in the summertime. Now that's incredible cardio!
New York and New Jersey are probably two of my favorite places to get really good surf in the summertime.
O Spirit of the Summertime! Bring back the roses to the dells; The swallow from her distant clime, The honey-bee from drowsy cells. Bring back the friendship of the sun; The gilded evenings, calm and late, When merry children homeward run, And peeping stars bid lovers wait. Bring back the singing; and the scent Of meadowlands at dewy prime;- Oh, bring again my heart's content, Thou Spirit of the Summertime!
Don't fear the night time, Because the monsters know that you're divine. And don't fear the sunshine, Because everything is better in the summer time...
It would've been amazing [to work as programmer]. You're good at numbers, you're good with people, you like to wear shorts in the summertime.
I split time between Nebraska and Florida. I'll come to Nebraska in the summertime and stay through Thanksgiving and then I go back to Florida because I have family in both places. One of the reasons I got the place in Nebraska is I've always wanted to live back in Nebraska.
When I need to think of, like, a peaceful scene or something, I think of my back garden in summertime. And whenever I hear the lawnmower next door, I always think it's really peaceful.
If you come to Plum Village in the summertime, you see many lotus flowers. Without the mud the lotus flowers cannot grow. You cannot separate lotus flowers from the mud. It is the same with understanding and love. These are two kinds of flowers that grow on the ground of suffering
During the summertime, I really like to dress like a gypsy. I love that whole lifestyle and the whole mixing of fabrics and flowy materials.
The first trip I remember taking was on the train from Virginia up to New York City, watching the summertime countryside rolling past the window. They used white linen tablecloths in the dining car in those days, and real silver. I love trains to this day. Maybe that was the beginning of my fixation with leisurely modes of travel.
Summertime, I think, is a collective unconscious. We all remember the notes that made up the song of the ice cream man; we all know what it feels like to brand our thighs on a playground slide that's heated up like a knife in a fire; we all have lain on our backs with our eyes closed and our hearts beating across the surface of our lids, hoping that this day will stretch just a little longer than the last one, when in fact it's all going in the other direction.
Will looked as if he were being asked to believe in something impossible—snow in summertime, a London winter without rain.
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