Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.
People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy.
Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.
A life without love is like a year without spring.
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
If it could only be like this always - always summer, always alone, the fruit always ripe and Aloysius in a good temper.
One must maintain a little bittle of summer, even in the middle of winter.
What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.
it's a smile, it's a kiss, it's a sip of wine ... it's summertime!
Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.
It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.
In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.
Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.
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.
That familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer. My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music. It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips.
Tears of joy are like the summer rain drops pierced by sunbeams.
There is no season such delight can bring, as summer, autumn, winter and the spring.
I'd be happy with this summer if it's all we ever had.
or simply:
