Summer's lease hath all too short a date.
What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.
Some of the best memories are made in flip flops.
Summer, after all, is a time when wonderful things can happen to quiet people.
August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.
Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.
The tans will fade, but the memories will last forever.
In summer, the song sings itself.
Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.
Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.
Friends, sun, sand, and sea, that sounds like a summer to me.
I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
Summertime is always the best of what might be.
One must maintain a little bit of summer, even in the middle of winter.
Everything good, everything magical happens between the months of June and August.
Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability.
Summer has filled her veins with light and her heart is washed with noon.
I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was always June.
Summer afternoon—summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.