The pleasure of jogging and running is rather like that of wearing a fur coat in Texas in August: the true joy comes in being able to take the damn thing off.
That smell of freshly cut grass makes me think of Friday night football in high school. The smell of popcorn and cigar smoke reminds me of the stadium. The cutting of the grass reminds me of the August practice.
My agent and I put out my proposal one Thursday afternoon in August, 1998. Publishers started bidding immediately, and that process progressed for a few days.
Every year, August lashes out in volcanic fury, rising with the din of morning traffic, its great metallic wings smashing against the ground, heating the air with ever-increasing intensity.
My life is like the summer rose That opens to the morning sky, But ere the shades of evening close Is scattered on the ground - to die.
Sometimes I wonder what I'm a-gonna do 'Cause there ain't no cure for the summertime blues.
August brings into sharp focus and a furious boil everything I've been listening to in the late spring and summer.
One time. In 1965. August, for about an hour, I was both fine AND dandy at the same time. But nobody asked me how I was.
Today is the first of August. It is hot, steamy and wet. It is raining. I am tempted to write a poem. But I remember what it said on one rejection slip: 'After a heavy rainfall, poems titled 'Rain' pour in from across the nation.
In August most of Europe goes on holiday.
Sunset Boulevard opened in August 1950, and it was pronounced the best movie ever made about Hollywood.
The English winter - ending in July to recommence in August
My life's long radiant Summer halts at last, And lo! beside my path way I behold Pursuing Autumn glide: nor frost nor cold Has heralded her presence; but a vast Sweet calm that comes not till the year has passed Its fevered solstice, and a tinge of gold Subdues the vivid colouring of bold And passion-hued emotions. I will cast My August days behind me with my May, Nor strive to drag them into Autumn's place, Nor swear I hope when I do but remember. Now violet and rose have had their day, I'll pluck the soberer asters with good grace And call September nothing but September.
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.
If there were no tribulation, there would be no rest; if there were no winter, there would be no summer.
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.
This was one of those perfect New England days in late summer where the spirit of autumn takes a first stealing flight, like a spy, through the ripening country-side, and, with feigned sympathy for those who droop with August heat, puts her cool cloak of bracing air about leaf and flower and human shoulders.
There is a Zone whose even Years No Solstice interrupt - Whose Sun constructs perpetual Noon Whose perfect Seasons wait - Whose Summer set in Summer, till The Centuries of June And Centuries of August cease And Consciousness - is Noon.
Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar.
Then in 1969, I spent the spring term at Cornell University in New York. The invasion of August 1968 had already happened, but the hardline regime took several months to crack down on dissidents.
Summoning artists to participate In the august occasions of the state Seems something artists ought to celebrate. Today is for my cause a day of days.
The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, All on a summer day: The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts, And took them quite away!
In the old days, one married a wife; now one forms a company with a female partner, or moves in to live with a friend. And then one seduces the partner, or defiles the friend.
The collision of hail or rain with hard surfaces, or the song of cicadas in a summer field. These sonic events are made out of thousands of isolated sounds; this multitude of sounds, seen as totality, is a new sonic event.
Friendship can only exist between persons with similar interests and points of view. Man and woman by the conventions of society are born with different interests and different points of view.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: