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 Est. 1998

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Quotations about Summer

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Welcome to my page of quotations about the season of summer. Here in Phoenix, summer is not the time to get outside that it is in many other areas — for us it's a time to stay indoors and hope that the air conditioner keeps working.  —ღ Terri

To see the Summer Sky
Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie –
True Poems flee –
~Emily Dickinson, c. 1879

Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it. ~Russell Baker, as quoted in Think (IBM), 1970

A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken. ~James Dent, in The Charleston Gazette, as quoted in Reader's Digest, 1994

Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare,
And left the flushed print in a poppy there:
Like a yawn of fire from the grass it came,
And the fanning wind puffed it to flapping flame...
~Francis Thompson

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 —
~Robert Louis Stevenson

I question not if thrushes sing,
      If roses load the air;
            Beyond my heart I need not reach
      When all is summer there...
~John Vance Cheney, "Love's World"

      Oh! the Summer Night
      Has a smile of light,
And she sits on a sapphire throne...
~Barry Cornwall (Bryan Procter)

God's gifts are measureless, and there shall be
Eternal summer in the grateful heart.
~Celia Thaxter, "A Grateful Heart"

Princess, what though we suffer? Sun and skies
And green trees' beauty make our cares seem small;
Boon that no Esau sells, or Crœsus buys,
The golden summer-time, is over all.
~Percy Reeve, "A Ballade of Summer-Time," Love & Music, 1883

Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability. ~Sam Keen, as quoted in Forbes, 2006

Summer has set in with its usual severity. ~Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1826

People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy. ~Anton Chekhov, 1898

A life without love is like a year without summer. ~Swedish proverb

Press close, bare-bosomed Night! Press close, magnetic, nourishing Night!
Night of south winds! Night of the large few stars!
Still, nodding night! Mad, naked, Summer Night!
~Walt Whitman

Do what we can, summer will have its flies... ~Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1841

One benefit of summer was that each day we had more light to read by. ~Jeannette Walls, The Glass Castle, 2005

...the drowsy hum of crickets and other sleepy sounds of the summer day... ~Gerald Raftery (1905–1986), Gray Lance, 1950

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. ~Sydney Smith, memoir by his daughter Lady Holland

How beautiful are the rosy footsteps of May! Less showery and changeful than April, and not so heated and burdensome as June, she stands like a gentle mediator between the two... With her soft blue eye, and her mild but radiant countenance, she comes like an angel of light among men... She scatters in her path the sweetest flowers of nature, and everywhere breathes fragrance and joyousness. The birds of the air are carolling her welcome, and even the mute beasts of the field seem happier at her coming. ~"May," Eliza Cook's Journal, 1850

When Winter's gone to rest,
And Spring is our dear guest;
The Merry May, at break of day,
Comes in gay garlands drest.
The brightest smiles she brings—
Of sweetest hopes she sings
And trips a-pace with dainty grace
And lightest fairy wings.
~S. J. Adair Fitz-Gerald (1859–1925), The Zankiwank & The Bletherwitch, 1896

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under the trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the blue sky, is by no means waste of time. ~John Lubbock, "Recreation," The Use of Life, 1894

There is no price set on the lavish summer,
And June may be had by the poorest comer.
~James Russell Lowell, The Vision of Sir Launfal, 1848

Summer afternoon — summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language. ~Henry James (1843–1916), as quoted by Edith Wharton, A Backward Glance, 1934

The luxury of all summer's sweet sensation is to be found when one lies at length in the warm, fragrant grass, soaked with sunshine, aware of regions of blossoming clover and of a high heaven filled with the hum of innumerous bees. ~Harriet E. Prescott, The Atlantic Monthly, August 1865

Woods are filled with the music of birds, and all nature is laughing under the glorious influence of Summer. ~Charles Lanman, "The Dying Year," 1840

Hey! It's summer! Be free and happy and danceful and uninhibited and now-y! ~Terri Guillemets

Full-on summer fell like a hammer. By nine in the morning you could already start dreading how hot it was going to be. ~Janet Fitch, White Oleander, 1999

Love, though the fallen leaf
Mark, and the fleeting light
And the loud, loitering
Footfall of darkness
Sign, to the heart
Of the passage of destiny,
Here is the ghost
Of a summer that lived for us,
Here is a promise
Of summers to be.
~W. E. Henley, "Rhymes and Rhythms"  #autumn

O for a summer noon, when light and breeze
Sport on the grass, like ripples o'er a lake
Alive with freshness! when the full round Sun,
With the Creator's smile upon his face,
Walks like a prince of glory through the path
Of Heaven!—Thou vast, and ever-glorious sky,
Mantling the earth with thy majestic robe...
~Robert Montgomery, "Beautiful Influences," A Universal Prayer; Death; A Vision of Heaven; and A Vision of Hell; &c. &c., 1829

I am Summer, come to lure you away from your computer... come dance on my fresh grass, dig your toes into my beaches. ~Oriana Green, @NatureSpirits, tweet, 2009

Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it,
We are happy now because God so wills it;
No matter how barren the past may have been,
'T is enough for us now that the leaves are green;
We sit in the warm shade and feel right well
How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell...
The breeze comes whispering in our ear,
That dandelions are blossoming near...
Every thing is upward striving;
'T is as easy now for the heart to be true
As for grass to be green or skies to be blue, —
'T is the natural way of living...
~James Russell Lowell, The Vision of Sir Launfal, 1848

I drifted into a summer-nap under the hot shade of July, serenaded by a cicadae lullaby, to drowsy-warm dreams of distant thunder. ~Terri Guillemets

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. ~John Keats, letter to Fanny Brawne, 1819

Neither Willie nor Maude could understand how it could be Midsummer Night, because Midsummer Day was such a long way off—quite six weeks, for this was only yet the month of May. But they did not say anything, because Robin Goodfellow was looking at them, and they knew they were invisible, because they could not even feel themselves—which is a curious sensation, when you come to think of it. ~S. J. Adair Fitz-Gerald (1859–1925), The Zankiwank & The Bletherwitch, 1896

      The year has now attained his manhood, and we are in midsummer; the sun is in full power, and at noon all nature is silent under his spell; even the bee hangs silent upon the flower; the mowers rest in the fields, and lay themselves down in the hot sun to sleep away the midday hour... The pulse of nature stands still. Glancing across the plain, you see the rarefied and glimmering air ascending from the heated earth...
      The silence is broken by the muttering of distant thunder. A cloud no bigger than a man's hand rises in the west, the heat becomes more overpowering, the air more sultry, the sky is overcast, and peal after peal of Heaven's artillery resounds through the concave; cloud thunders to cloud, and the forked lightning instantly shoots in a brilliant stream from side to side of the heavens. The rain comes pouring down, and the parched earth is refreshed, and drinks in the moisture like a sponge. How delicious to walk out after a shower, and inhale the odour...
      In our gardens the fruits are fast reaching perfection; all esculent plants are in full use; the rich juicy black currant is ripe, and the gooseberries are full almost to bursting. Ripe strawberries nestle under every leaf... Now is the season for bathing, whether in river or ocean. How delicious is a plunge in this thirsty weather! ~"July," Eliza Cook's Journal, 1850

May, the first of summer months, and of old famous for floral games... ~Henry James Slack (1818–1896), Marvels of Pond-Life; or, A Year's Microscopic Recreations among the Polyps, Infusoria, Rotifers, Water-bears, and Polyzoa, 1860

Summer breeze, light fluffy clouds... Mother Nature has a canvas for every season. ~Terri Guillemets

Spring flew swiftly by, and summer came; and if the village had been beautiful at first, it was now in the full glow and luxuriance of its richness. The great trees, which had looked shrunken and bare in the earlier months, had now burst into strong life and health; and stretching forth their green arms over the thirsty ground, converted open and naked spots into choice nooks, where was a deep and pleasant shade from which to look upon the wide prospect, steeped in sunshine, which lay stretched out beyond. The earth had donned her mantle of brightest green; and shed her richest perfumes abroad. It was the prime and vigour of the year; all things were glad and flourishing. ~Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist, 1838

Poetic words flow much better in pleasant climes
Springtime and autumn, more friendly for rhymes
Winter's good too, we self-reflect well in cold times
But blazing summer melts words and numbs minds
~Terri Guillemets, "Spring’s sure well-done over, at 100°," 2019

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. Often at night there is lightning, but it quivers all alone. ~Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting, 1975

This was one of those perfect New England days in late summer, when the spirit of autumn takes a first stealthy 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. Every living thing grows suddenly cheerful and strong... ~Sarah Orne Jewett, "The Courting of Sister Wisby," 1888

The end-of-summer winds make people restless. ~Sebastian Faulks, Engleby, 2007

The sun tires of summer and sighs itself into autumn. ~Terri Guillemets

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Last saved 2020 Nov 12 Thu 12:36 PST

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