Summer has filled her veins with light and her heart is washed with noon.
Everything good, everything magical happens between the months of June and August.
I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
One must maintain a little bittle of summer, even in the middle of winter.
What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.
Let us dance in the sun, wearing wildflowers in our hair.