It is with roses and locomotives (not to mention acrobats Spring electricity Coney Island the 4th of July the eyes of mice and Niagara Falls) that my poems are competing.
I don't mean to sound grandiose, but there's something universal that you tap into with films like Feast of July and Schindler's List. You know they aren't make-believe. They illustrate something about life. This is my major concern whenever I select a film
We go in withering July To ply the hard incessant hoe; Panting beneath the brazen sky We sweat and grumble, but we go.
The English winter - ending in July to recommence in August
The winds that blow through the wide sky in these mounts, the winds that sweep from Canada to Mexico, from the Pacific to the Atlantic - have always blown on free men.
The dandelions and buttercups gild all the lawn: the drowsy bee stumbles among the clover tops, and summer sweetens all to me.
My God! How little do my countrymen know what precious blessings they are in possession of, and which no other people on earth enjoy!
Democracy means simply the bludgeoning of the people by the people for the people.
I wish that every human life might be pure transparent freedom.
We must be free not because we claim freedom, but because we practice it.
You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism.
For what avail the plough or sail, or land or life, if freedom fail?
This nation will remain the land of the free only so long as it is the home of the brave.
My fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.
Freedom has its life in the hearts, the actions, the spirit of men and so it must be daily earned and refreshed - else like a flower cut from its life-giving roots, it will wither and die.
In the truest sense, freedom cannot be bestowed; it must be achieved.
We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Let freedom never perish in your hands.
What happens when all the parts of childhood are soldered down, when the young no longer have the time or space to play in their family's garden, cycle home in the dark with the stars and moon illuminating their route, walk down through the woods to the river, lie on their backs on hot July days in the long grass, or watch cockleburs, lit by morning sun, like bumblees quivering on harp wires? What then?
Summer has set in with its usual severity.
A world without tomatoes is like a string quartet without violins.
Live in each season as it passes: breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit.
When I was little I thought, isn't it nice that everybody celebrates on my birthday? Because it's July 4th.
If the first of July it be rainy weather, 'Twill rain more or less for four weeks together.
Americans know as much about Canada as straight people do about gays. Americans arrive at the border with skis in July, and straight people think that being gay is just a phase. A very long phase.
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