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— Jenny Han"Everything good, everything magical happens between the months of June and August. Winters are simply a time to count the weeks until the next summer"
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When summer gathers up her robes of glory, and like a dream of beauty glides away.
— Sarah Helen Whitman
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In August, the large masses of berries, which, when in flower, had attracted many wild bees, gradually assumed their bright velvety crimson hue, and by their weight again bent down and broke their tender limbs.
— Henry David Thoreau
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