Best 1928 quotes in «summer quotes» category

They'd eaten every meal outdoors, hard-boiled eggs and cheese from a picnic basket, and drunk wine under the lilac tree in the walled garden. They'd disappeared inside the woods, and stolen apples from the farm next door, and floated down the stream in her little boat as one silken hour spun itself into the next. On a clear, still night, they'd dug the old bicycles out of the shed and cycled together along the dusty lane, racing, laughing, breathing in salt from the warm air as moonlight made the stones, still hot from the day, shine lustrous white.

They radiated that orgasm-free lifestyle so unique and universal among Seabrook women.

Thinking these things made space and time around her, the way saying 'only June' had when she was a child hoarding summer.

Think like a middle-aged man with OCD, a dead wife, and a teenage daughter. Think like a woman with three teenage sons who once ran a golf cart into the side of their granddad's house." "Cameron and Sean shouldn't have let me drive," Adam said in his own defense. "I was seven." "You shouldn't have ASKED to drive. You were seven.

this is the last house in summer and now is the double loneliness of missing a party you don't even want to be at.

This summer night deep down under the stars was all the things you would ever feel or see or hear in your life, drowning you all at once.

Those stories were the sound track of my summer with you.

They say it'll be even hotter tomorrow. that's how we spend the summer. complaining about the heat.

This couldn’t be just a lake. No real water was ever blue like that. A light breeze stirred the pin-cherry tree beside the window, ruffled the feathers of a fat sea gull promenading on the pink rocks below. The breeze was full of evergreen spice.

This is our thing now, right? Letting chance decide?

This is so funny,” said Ellen, noticing the seating arrangement. “Isn’t this funny? Tom, come sit next to Robin. Griffin, sit next to Laura.” I stood up and sat next to Robin while Griffin brought his chair over to Laura. “That’s better,” said Ellen. “Isn’t that better?

This summer, I'm going to do what Emma said, and let loose. I'll let fate decide—one coin flip at a time.

Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it in summer school

Today was the first day of summer, she realized, her spirits lifting like a kite. She loved milestones of any sort: birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, checks on the calendar, notches on a growth chart. Today would be special, brand new. She felt it deep inside. Summer was here with sunny days and balmy nights, the informality of barbecues and dips in the swimming pool. She was so relieved to have the grind of the school year finished. She missed playing with her children.

To her surprise, Jilly appeared to have handed over the telephone and a moment later Taka ended the call. No, maybe it shouldn't surprise her. Jilly would have resisted bullying, but Taka's calm control was very…seductive.

To me, summer has always been about potential. This was especially true when I was in high school. Those 3 or so months between 1 school year and the next always meant change. People got taller or wider or smaller. They broke up or came together, lost friends or gained them, had life experiences that you could tell had transformed them even if you didn't know what they were. In the summer, the days were long, stretching into each other. Out of school, everything was on pause and yet happening at the same time, this collection of weeks when anything was possible. As a teenager, I was always hoping to change, to become someone other than who I was. Each summer, I felt I had the chance to do that. All I had to do was wait and see what happened.

To Zinkoff and to all the kids in this brick-and-hoagie town, summer is like a great warm shallow lake. Some frolic and splash. Some strike out for the distant shore, too far away to see. Some just stand there, digging their toes into the sandy bottom. It is warm and sunny and lazy and you can leave your feet if you want to, because in the warm waters of summer, everybody floats.” (p. 161).

Traigh came to help her dismount, a broad smile making creases around his eyes. “I fear ye missed our summer, Joie.” Her brow drew in with confusion. “But it is summer, Traigh,” she told him. “Aye, it might well be summer elsewhere in the world, but here, it only last three days. We had our summer last week.

...TV was entertainment of the last resort. There was nothing on during the day in the summer other than game shows and soap operas. Besides, a TV-watching child was considered available for chores: take out the trash, clean your room, pick up that mess, fold those towels, mow the lawn... the list was endless. We all became adept at chore-avoidance. Staying out of sight was a reliable strategy. Drawing or painting was another: to my mother, making art trumped making beds. A third choir-avoidance technique was to read. A kid with his or her nose in a book is a kid who is not fighting, yelling, throwing, breaking things, bleeding, whining, or otherwise creating a Mom-size headache. Reading a book was almost like being invisible - a good thing for all concerned.

Underneath my lashes I watched him, and I thought,Come back. Be the you I love and remember

...until summer becomes ein Zimmer in einem Traum -- a room in a dream.

Watching the summer close is like watching a good kid die for no apparent reason.

Weather Report: 3 murders allowed, if someone stands too close to you in public gatherings.

Though it was mid-July, the morning was brisk, the sky a gray cotton of clouds, and Puget Sound a steely, cold blue. Most of Seattle grumbled, worn with winterish weather, impatient for the elusive summer sun. With umbrellas tucked away in the trunks of cars, sunglasses lost and separated from their original purchasers, the Pacific Northwest was a bastion of misty air and pale, complaining residents.

Well, if they set you in the kissing booth, let me know, I am always willing to donate for a worthy cause.

Those who always have summer in their minds never see winter!

We came out on Coldra Crescent, one of those warm air nights, stars spitting in the sky like firebugs stuck on a big black velvet rump. A summer night to make anybody with standard glands feel that tidy homes, spring mattresses, four guaranteed meals per day, and legalised religion were all criminal to human development.

We have to get through the summer.' Finn didn't want to get through the summer. He wanted to fall into it, hunker down and stay for a while.

We never really know what might me beside us or ahead, but most days we walk as if we do

We tend to take summer's vitality for granted, when in actuality it is just one prolonged drought, or disease, away from decimation.

We're the Septembers now. The real ones. We are everything to one another. We don't need to say so; it's just true. Sometimes it seems like we're so close we form one single complete person rather than four separate ones. We settle into types- Bridget the athlete, Lena the beauty, Tibby the rebel, and me, Carmen, the...what? The one with the bad temper. But the one who cares the most. The one who cares that we stick together.

We started out as five people whose lives just happened to cross paths. By the end of the summer we were family

We were enjoying one of those rare summers of utter freedom – no financial responsibility, no debts, no time owing to anybody.

What did Kevin Ye get arrested for anyway? Didn't he steal a car?" "He stole the driver's ed car." I laughed. Then I saw how Adam was looking at me. "He gave it back." "They MAKE you give stuff back, Lori, after they arrest you for stealing it.

What are you? Spring or summer? Winter or autumn? None or all? Whatever you are, always be mild! Are you winter, then be a mild winter! Summer? Be a mild summer!

What a strange thing it is to wake up to a milk-white overcast June morning! The sun is hidden by a thick cotton blanket of clouds, and the air is vapor-filled and hazy with a concentration of blooming scent. The world is somnolent and cool, in a temporary reprieve from the normal heat and radiance. But the sensation of illusion is strong. Because the sun can break through the clouds at any moment . . . What a soft thoughtful time. In this illusory gloom, like a night-blooming flower, let your imagination bloom in a riot of color.

Whatever happens in the rest of this summer, whatever happens the rest of your life, it’s important that you are happy, and stay that way.", Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

What if winters were only there to make flowers bloom and not to see them dying in summer heat?

When I think of New York City, I think of all the girls, the Jewish girls, the Italian girls, the Irish, Polack, Chinese, German, Negro, Spanish, Russian girls, all on parade in the city. I don't know whether it's something special with me or whether every man in the city walks around with the same feeling inside him, but I feel as though I'm at a picnic in this city. I like to sit near the women in the theaters, the famous beauties who've taken six hours to get ready and look it. And the young girls at the football games, with the red cheeks, and when the warm weather comes, the girls in their summer dresses . . .

When I said I’d stay over, I didn’t know that this was what you had in mind. I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear. I… if you want me to go home now, that’s fine.”, Summer Jones in Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

When the winter comes, the summer shines infinitely in our hearts!

When you knock off work tonight, go looking for Toby, because, trust me, he will be looking for you.

What do you know? This is where it all began,” he said. “Began?” “This is exactly where I was when I wanted to kiss you,” he whispered, his lips brushing along my neck causing me to melt under his touch. “So bad.” “Except this time there’s no drunk netballer squawking at us,” I teased. “I wouldn’t care if the seven horseman of the Apocalypse charged through the garden right now, nothing’s gonna stop me from doing this.” He leaned down and captured my lips with tenderness, a completely perfect kiss, like it always was.

Who will you be, my Little Ones? Will you dance for the fires of your youth and run at midnight to water’s edge, diving into summer’s heat? Will you ride a wild mare to any thought or dream or love of your making? Will you seek the artistry of your own infatuations and explore . . .

Why are you wailing away? What is the matter with you?” “I was playing and—“ and her lip quivered as she spoke, “—and it was cloudy, and then—“ a sniff, “—and then, as I was playing, the sun came out.” I gave her a flat look. “You’re crying because the sun came out?” “Yes,” she moped, wiping the tears from her eyes, “the sun came out, and now—“ she heaved, “—and now, it’s hot! I don’t like it when it’s hot. Being hot is dumb!” I immediately absolved her of all previous sins. I slumped over the sill and gave her as much sympathy as my now warm face allowed. “Yes, child, being hot is very dumb indeed. Very well, you have a reason for crying. But then why are you outside?” “Because it was too hot inside and mommy won’t let me have ice cream.” “Well, there is your problem. You must get an air conditioner and a new mother.

Why do you take off your clothes in the winter and then cover up in the summer? Baring it all, Grandstanding, Not even one leaf, You naked tree

Winter is copper, autumn is bronze, spring is silver, and summer is gold.

Winter is our time. They shut up their cities for the cold months. They put their horses in stables and sit around great fires in enormous houses of stone. If you want a bearskin, do you attack in summer when it is strong and fast, or cut its throat as it sleeps?

Wistful notes spoke of loneliness, as solitary as the final birdsong of autumn or the trill of summer’s last cicada before the wintry freeze.

Winter, spring, and summer, passed away during my labours; but I did not watch the blossoms or the expanding leaves — sights which before always yielded me supreme delight, so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation.