End Of Summer Quotes

The summer night is like a perfection of thought.

Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.

But even more so, it reminded me that this was all really happening. Stanford. The end of the summer. The beginning of my real life. It was no longer just creeping up, peeking over the horizon, but instead lingering in plain sight.

When you're writing a movie or a play and writing isn't going well, which is for me the normal condition - it's an exceptional day when suddenly I've got something and it's going well - you can call the studio or the producer or whoever is waiting for it and say, "I know I said I was going to have it in by the end of the summer.

By the end of the summer of 1973 I thought it was virtually impossible for South Vietnam to survive. How in the heck could they?

Frightened of my futureless life, scared by my foolish anxieties, unable to see ahead and aiming nowhere, I continued ceaselessly living my ridiculously idiotic life. I was beset on all sides by invisible worries. So, I shut myself in and slept. I slept until sleep exhausted me. Spring passed, summer ended, fall came, and then winter arrived. Then, it turned into another gentle spring.

In summer, the song sings itself.

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.

You choose the end of the summer to fall in love with this guy because secretly, you don’t want it to last.

Farewell, my old fan. / Having scribbled on it, / What could I do but tear it / At the end of summer?

It was one of the warm nights at the end of summer that makes promises that won't be kept.

Summer has set in with its usual severity.

The summer sun was not meant for boys like me. Boys like me belonged to the rain.

Another secret of the universe: Sometimes pain was like a storm that came out of nowhere. The clearest summer could end in a downpour. Could end in lightning and thunder.

Oh, the summer night, Has a smile of light, And she sits on a sapphire throne.

The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer.

I'd be happy with this summer if it's all we ever had.

Don't remember summer even saying goodbye.

Do what we can, summer will have its flies.

summer was our best season: it was sleeping on the back screeneed porch in cots, or trying to sleep in the treehouse; summer was everything good to eat;it was a thousand colors in a parched landscape.

The end-of-summer winds make people restless.

One benefit of Summer was that each day we had more light to read by.

Our fear of death is like our fear that summer will be short, but when we have had our swing of pleasure, our fill of fruit, and our swelter of heat, we say we have had our day.

My old grandmother always used to say, Summer friends will melt away like summer snows, but winter friends are friends forever.

One must maintain a little bittle of summer, even in the middle of winter.

I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.

it's a smile, it's a kiss, it's a sip of wine ... it's summertime!

the large black slugs ... come out at dusk. Enormous slugs. As big as crocodiles. So huge we need a gun to shoot them. And by the end of the summer, if they go on growing, we shall have to go out in pairs together for protection.

For me, my favorite trends of summer are lots of color, wedges, rompers and bright lipstick.

The summer ends and we wonder who we are And there you go, my friends, with your boxes in your car And today I passed the high school, the river, the maple tree I passed the farms that made it Through the last days of the century And I knew that I was going to learn again Again, in this less hazy light I saw the fields beyond the fields The fields beyond the field

There's Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs 1 and 2, and Ratatouille. It's super surreal. We've been working on this for eight years nonstop. Every week we've had a Sausage Party meeting, and now it won't be on our to-do list anymore. It's like the end of summer camp.

Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.

A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing and mojito in your hand.

So that's what I'm here to become. And suddenly, this word fills me with a brand of sadness I haven't felt since childhood. The kind of sadness you feel at the end of summer. When the fireflies are gone, the ponds have dried up and the plants are wilted, weary from being so green.

A little kid asks my dad why that man is chopping down the tree. Dad: He's not chopping it down. He's saving it. Those branches were long dead from disease. All plants are like that. By cutting off the damage you make it possible for the tree to grow again. You watch - by the end of summer, this tree will be the strongest on the block.

Gone are the birds that were our summer guests.

I dropped my hoe and ran into the house and started to write this poem, 'End of Summer.’ It began as a celebration of wild geese. Eventually the geese flew out of the poem, but I like to think they left behind the sound of their beating wings.

Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don't they should, for their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers.

To say it was a beautiful day would not begin to explain it. It was that day when the end of summer intersects perfectly with the start of fall .... [p.218 ff.]

It will not always be summer: build barns.

While we're young and beautiful, living free and easy. Here without a worry, dancing in our bare feet because when the summer's done we might not be so young and beautiful.

Life is the blossoming of flowers in the spring, the ripening of fruit in the fall, the rhythm of the earth and of nature. Life is the cry of cicadas signalling the end of summer, migratory birds winging south in a transparent autumn sky, fish frolicking in a stream. Life is the joy beautiful music installs in us, the thrilling sight of a mountain peak reddened by the rising sun, the myriad combinations and permutations of visible and invisible phenomena. Life is all things.

Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night.

August has passed, and yet summer continues by force to grow days. They sprout secretly between the chapters of the year, covertly included between its pages.

When summer gathers up her robes of glory, and like a dream of beauty glides away.

August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.

People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy.

A life without love is like a year without spring.

If it could only be like this always - always summer, always alone, the fruit always ripe and Aloysius in a good temper.

Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.