I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was always June.
Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.
A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing and mojito in your hand.
Summer is the time when one sheds one's tensions with one's clothes, and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit. A few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all's right with the world.
One must maintain a little bittle of summer, even in the middle of winter.
Oh, the summer night, Has a smile of light, And she sits on a sapphire throne.
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
A life without love is like a year without spring.
it's a smile, it's a kiss, it's a sip of wine ... it's summertime!
And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
Summer's lease hath all too short a date.
People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy.
Heat, ma am! It was so dreadful here that I found there was nothing left for it but to take off my flesh and sit in my bones.
Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.
What is one to say about June, the time of perfect young summer, the fulfillment of the promise of the earlier months, and with as yet no sign to remind one that its fresh young beauty will ever fade.
If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance.
In summer, the song sings itself.
I question not if thrushes sing,
If roses load the air;
Beyond my heart I need not reach
When all is summer there.
To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—
Then followed that beautiful season... Summer.... Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.
Love is to the heart what the summer is to the farmer's year. It brings to harvest all the loveliest flowers of the soul.
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer quite the other way
I have to go to bed by day.
I'd be happy with this summer if it's all we ever had.
While we're young and beautiful, living free and easy. Here without a worry, dancing in our bare feet because when the summer's done we might not be so young and beautiful.
Being a child at home alone in the summer is a high-risk occupation. If you call your mother at work thirteen times an hour, she can hurt you.
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