I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.
Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.
Summer has filled her veins with light and her heart is washed with noon.
Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.
I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was always June.
One must maintain a little bittle of summer, even in the middle of winter.