I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more.
To this day, I fondly recall the challenges of building a fire, pitching a tent, climbing a New England mountain, canoeing on a lake. Camp songs still resonate inside me. Competition exists at Keewaydin, of course, but nobody fails summer camp, a nice respite from winters of fortune and misfortune at school.
(Algerian athlete, 1996 Summer Olympics, on the 3000m world record) I think my 3:27 for 1500m is worth 7:21 for 3000m.
There's not much to do in Atlanta, so the cast went to the gym together, went shopping together, and dinner was always a group thing. It's that whole summer-camp experience that making movies tends to be anyway.
Now is the winter of our discontent.
I always like summer best
Wine is drinkable sunlight. It's the most glorious summer's day imaginable, captured in a bottle.
When I was 11, I realised that I did not have to live the life my mother had: school, marriage, children, apartment, summer house.
I started going [Grateful Dead] when I was in high school. I was 15. It was the Summer Of Love.
Summer treads on heels of spring.
It was a heavenly summer, the summer in which France fell and the British Expeditionary Force was evacuated from Dunkirk. Leaves were never such an intense and iridescent green; sunlight glinted on flower-studded meadows as the Germans encircled the Maginot Line and overran not only France but Belgium and Holland. Birdsong filled the air in the lull between bursts of gunfire and accompanied the fleeing refugees who blocked the roads. It was as though the weather was preparing a glorious requiem for the death of Europe.
That is no country for old men. The young In one another's arms, birds in the trees - Those dying generations-at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unaging intellect.
I was an economics major in college, and every summer after school, I would drive my car from California, from Claremont men's college at the time, to New York. And I worked on Wall Street.
If he does go, the change will be doleful. Suppose he should be absent spring, summer, and autumn: how joyless sunshine and fine days will seem!
Hinduism is a living organism liable to growth and decay subject to the laws of Nature. One and indivisible at the root, it has grown into a vast tree with innumerable branches. The changes in the season affect it. It has its autumn and its summer, its winter and its spring. It is, and is not, based on scriptures. It does not derive its authority from one book. Non violence has found the highest expression and application in Hinduism.
Hospitals are closing across the country due to the burden of illegal immigration, college students find that summer jobs have dried up due to illegal immigration, and wages across the board are depressed by the overwhelming influx of cheap and illegal labor.
I love the smell of freshly cut grass. It takes me back to summers in Maine.
Loud is the summer's busy song The smallest breeze can find a tongue, While insects of each tiny size Grow teasing with their melodies, Till noon burns with its blistering breath Around, and day lies still as death.
What a contrast between the stern and desolate poetry of Ossian, and that of Chaucer, and even of Shakespeare and Milton, much more of Dryden, and Pope, and Gray! Our summer of English poetry, like the Greek and Latin before it, seems well advanced towards its fall, and laden with the fruit and foliage of the season, with bright autumnal tints, but soon the winter will scatter its myriad clustering and shading leaves, and leave only a few desolate and fibrous boughs to sustain the snow and rime, and creak in the blasts of age.
And I remembered with a pang what had happened to me the previous summer - that even Gallagher Girls aren't always as strong as they need to be.