Best 1928 quotes in «summer quotes» category

Farewell, Timothy Riley’s Bar," Lane said softly. "Home of the nickel beer. Snooker emporium. Repository of Bluebird records, three for a dime. We honor you and your passing. Farewell. Farewell, Timothy Riley—and terraplanes and rumbleseats and saddle shoes and Helen Forrest and the Triple-C camps and Andy Hardy and Lum ‘n’ Abner and the world-champion New York Yankees! Rest in peace, you age of innocence—you beautiful, serene, carefree, pre-Pearl Harbor, long summer night. We’ll never see your likes again.

For five days the city had wilted under a hard sky, sweltering in a temperature that stayed fixed in the middle nineties. Even at night there was no relief from the heat. Pyjamas and nighties stuck clammily to damp skin. Half-clad, self-pitying figures rose, exasperated by insomnia, to stumble through darkened rooms in search of a cooler plot than their bed, hoping that, all accidentally, they might waken any gross sleeper the house contained. Cold water ran hot from the taps, and the roads turned to tar.

Gather in the summer, gather in the winter; and you will have everything you want in the spring.

From Summer's End What we have is enough. It's more than we consciously realized.

Gentle swells had replaced the angry waves of yesterday. The gentle breakers made their way to shore glinting with green as they somersaulted to shore. The waves showed an edge of lacy foam that caressed the sand. It was peaceful.

God what an outfield,' he says. 'What a left field.' He looks up at me, and I look down at him. 'This must be heaven,' he says. No. It's Iowa,' I reply automatically. But then I feel the night rubbing softly against my face like cherry blossoms; look at the sleeping girl-child in my arms, her small hand curled around one of my fingers; think of the fierce warmth of the woman waiting for me in the house; inhale the fresh-cut grass small that seems locked in the air like permanent incense; and listen to the drone of the crowd, as below me Shoelss Joe Jackson tenses, watching the angle of the distant bat for a clue as to where the ball will be hit. I think you're right, Joe,' I say, but softly enough not to disturb his concentration.

Ghosts are everywhere, not just the ghost of Momma in the woods, but ghosts of us too, what we used to be like in those long summers.

Gone are the summer days and my mind along with them. No longer will I indulge in hopes of getting you back. It is hope that makes these chains heavier and autumnal nights longer. I will merely serve as a memory to you: the lover that recited love poems. I must go now and I urge you not to look back.

He looked at me now. "Remember I said, 'what if I didn't want to fix your bike?'" I remembered. "Yes..." "I didn't want to fix it, because I liked driving you places.

He liked to listen to the silence, he said, if silence could be listened to, for he went on, in that silence you could hear wildflower pollen sifting down the bee-fried air, by God, the bee-fried air! Listen! the waterfall of birdsong being those trees!

He looks shocked, and worse. He looks like he’s on the brink of breaking down completely.", Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

Here, Earth-born, over the lilt of the water, Lisping its music and bearing a burden of light, Bosoming day as a laughing and radiant daughter… Here we may whisper unheard, unafraid of the night. Walking alone…was it splendor, or what, we were bound with? Deep in the time when summer lets down her hair? Shadows we loved and the patterns they covered the ground with Tapestries, mystical, faint in the breathless air.

Green light,” she called, and I watched Becky run ahead until she was just a few inches from Michelle. Kayla was right next to her. Just as she reached out to tag Michelle, Kayla pushed into Becky’s back hard, and Becky flew forward. I gasped. Michelle turned around as Kayla tagged her arm. Becky fell at Michelle’s feet. She wrapped her arms around Michelle’s legs to catch herself. Michelle fell forward onto her knees, and Becky bumped her mouth against Michelle’s shoe. “Time!” I called, stopping the game. “Sis, you all right?” Heather asked Michelle. Michelle didn’t answer. She looked at Becky who was on her knees, staring at the ground. “You okay?” I asked Becky. She started to cry. I didn’t know if she really was hurt or just looking for attention. I sighed and looked away, waiting for her to start screaming her head off. Luke ran over to us. He looked at her, pointed, and cried, “Beck, you’re bleeding!” I looked up. Blood was trickling out of her mouth. She gasped. I glared at Luke for scaring her. He closed his mouth. Becky opened hers wider. “Kayla, why are you such a little brat?” asked Michelle, slapping off the grass stuck to her knees. “It was an accident!” Kayla insisted. “Yeah right!” Michelle yelled, “You just wanted to win! It’s just a game!” Kayla stood there looking guilty. I looked at Becky and noticed that one of her teeth was missing. I looked down, found a piece of white on the ground, and picked it up with my thumb and pointer finger. It was Becky’s tooth. “Becky, look!” I said, holding it up, “You lost your first tooth!” - The Castle Park Kids

Ha! no more dirges for the dead summer—and here,the shrills of that unpleasant months over, and new leaves start to shiver;as the winter smiled in her foggy bath!

He knew he would always remember her, standing there with that expectant, forward-looking smile, enough to turn the future into summer.

Her dad turned to me. "You. Follow Me." "Woof," I said.

Her fragility makes her uncomfortable, but it has a familiarity, too, like the biting cold of winter that you only half forget during other seasons.

Her legs swing complete afternoons away.

Her love was like endless summer nights -unforgettable.

He sighed profoundly, and flung himself - there was a passion in his movements which deserves the word - on the earth at the foot of the oak tree. He loved, beneath all this summer transiency, to feel the earth's spine beneath him; for such he took the hard root of the oak tree to be; or, for image followed image, it was the back of a great horse that he was riding; or the deck of a tumbling ship - it was anything indeed, so long as it was hard, for he felt the need of something which he could attach his floating heart to; the heart that tugged at his side; the heart that seemed filled with spiced and amorous gales every evening about this time when he walked out. To the oak tree he tied it and as he lay there, gradually the flutter in and about him stilled itself; the little leaves hung, the deer stopped; the pale summer clouds stayed; his limbs grew heavy on the ground; and he lay so still that by degrees the deer stopped nearer and the rooks wheeled round him and the swallows dipped and circled and the dragonflies shot past, as if all the fertility and amorous activity of a summer's evening were woven web-like about his body.

He sighed, then said, "So basically, you're stalking her." "I am NOT stalking her." I insisted. "That's where you come in. If I followed her by myself, someone who did not understand the situation and did not realize that I am so responsible-" McGillicuddy snorted. "- might mistake what I am doing for stalking. However, her big brother is with me. Therefore we are protecting her.

Hey, I just thought of something." "What?" "When we're together, we make one whole Italian.

His hot and bothered body of sweat felt refreshing against my flesh, like the water beads on a frosty Mason jar of lemonade the summer of my first blush with self-rule and release, even though it was February.

He slid over to me and grabbed me closer to him. My smile fell from my face with the unexpectedness of it. His hands cupped my face, his lips hovering above mine. “You seriously want to know, Tess?” He closed the space and claimed my mouth with an urgent, hot, delving kiss. He smiled. “You are sexy, in your own goofball way, you’re sweet and beautiful and smart and funny and, although you kiss to the point where I feel like I want to go back for seconds, you’re my best friend, and that’s why I don’t want to tap that.

Hey!” I wave my index finger in his face, “No shitting on pop music. Everyone needs some light, fun, sexy pop music. It’s summer, and that right there, is the perfect summer song. It’s hot.” “You’re right, it is hot,” he says, scanning my body with his eyes.

I am cold, even though the heat of early summer is adequate. I am cold because I cannot find my heart.

I am but a firefly caught in his jar and when he looks at me, I can’t help but glow.

However, although you might think this is the time of year to take some time off, you must never transgress one of the allotment rules: 'Thou shan't go on holiday in summer!

I am happy to experience beauty of each season; spring time, summer, autumn and winter.

I don’t think I’ve ever referred to any girl I dated as my girlfriend. I think that would freak me out. Even the girl that I dated for two years in college I don’t think I ever referred to her as my girlfriend.” “How would you introduce her?” I asked. “I’m just going to say her name,” he said.

I am sure I have summer depression; the heat makes me instantly regret being alive.

I can compete with a lot of things, but a whole lifetime’s worth of crush isn’t one of them.", Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

Iced tea! Nothing is half so refreshing as a glass of black tea piled high with ice! More than a quencher of thirst, it is a tamer of tempers, a lifter of lethargy, and a brightener of smiles. It is a taste of Winter’s chill, magically trapped in midsummer’s glass.

I checked the big silver-and-white wall clock. It was the centerpiece in a construction-paper design that said: TIME IS PASSING. WILL YOU? FOCUS! The O in focus was the clock.

I'd had kisses. Rushed, wet, tasting of beer, right out in the open. I'd messed around with a funny sophomore in my anthropology seminar and a shy journalism grad student, and while these nights were satisfying in their way, the pleasure didn't last past 2:00 am. I missed patience, the sweet, smoky taste of scotch. And the gut thrum of the forbidden. Instead of obscuring my memory of him, the hours I spent with boys at school slid to the edges and collected around it, like a frame.

I'd love to wake up to complete silence, white sheets, and the smell of crisp air and roses.

I don’t want Summer to be the girl who might have been. I don’t care if that makes things difficult. I don’t care if Rachel will kill me for it. I’m not going to miss this chance. I’m going to do whatever I have to do to be with her. ", Drew Donovan in Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

I dream of the summers we kissed, winters we missed, spring that blossomed, withering of the autumn, with hope in my heart, I dream of getting you back.

I feel like a blind man searching a dark room. (Old Man Alone on Labor Day Weekend -- blog post)

i am permanently tanned in the summer of poetry.

I believe someone made a grievous mistake when summer was created; no novitiate or god in their right mind would make a season akin to hell on purpose. Someone should be fired.

I could taste the salt on her lips, each kiss like a summer wave breaking on an empty beach.

I feel the fluttering of dragonflies—summer creatures that have no use for words.

I felt drunk on Chase and high on summertime. Why did that sound just like a country song?

I felt like summer had taken me over.

I felt like summer sunsets or July fireworks or chasing down the ice cream truck.

If he were only interested in me for one thing, he’d have moved on when it didn’t go perfectly the first time.", Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

If I had to describe the scent of Michigan in spring and summer, it wouldn't be a particular smell – blooming wildflowers or boat exhaust off the lake – it would be a color: Green.

If I don't make it to heaven, at least I know what hell feels like with this heat!

If. If Mingus Rude could be kept in this place, kept somehow in Dylan's pocket, in his stinging, smudgy hands, then summer wouldn't give way to whatever came after. If. If. Fat chance. Summer on Dean Street had lasted one day and that day was over, it was dark out, had been for hours. The Williamsburg Savings Bank tower clock read nine-thirty in red-and-blue neon. Final score, a million to nothing. The million-dollar kid. Your school wasn't on fire, you were.