I know that if odour were visible, as colour is, I'd see the summer garden in rainbow clouds.
What a man needs in gardening is a cast-iron back, with a hinge in it.
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.
A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing and mojito in your hand.
Gardening imparts an organic perspective on the passage of time.
Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.
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.
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
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.
Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.
People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy.
Oh, the summer night, Has a smile of light, And she sits on a sapphire throne.
Do what we can, summer will have its flies.
Blessed be the Lord for the beauty of summer and spring, for the air, the water, the verdure, and the song of birds.
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.
There ought to be gardens for all months in the year, in which, severally, things of beauty may be then in season.
Someone is sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago.
All your renown is like the summer flower that blooms and dies; because the sunny glow which brings it forth, soon slays with parching power.
Sometimes I wonder what I'm a-gonna do 'Cause there ain't no cure for the summertime blues.
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.
or simply:
