#summer

I am a summer person. ↗

— Elin Hilderbrand

#i #i am #person #summer

Like a welcome summer rain, humor may suddenly cleanse and cool the earth, the air and you. ↗

— Langston Hughes

#air #cleanse #cool #earth #like

Summer bachelors, like summer breezes, are never as cool as they pretend to be. ↗

— Nora Ephron

#bachelors #breezes #like #never #pretend

The NAACP was even considering earlier this summer reassessing their position on school integration. ↗

— Tom Joyner

#earlier #even #integration #naacp #position

Very intense first summer out, to be 18 years old and never having gone on a date, never having smoked a cigarette, never had a drink, even a sip of beer, never kissed a girl, all of those things. It made for a fairly intense first year out. ↗

— Peter Jurasik

#cigarette #date #drink #even #fairly

We were given no chance against them, but we held our own and we will be trying to do the same this summer. ↗

— Robbie Keane

#chance #given #held #our #own

Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability. ↗

— Sam Keen

#finds #laziness #respectability #summer

I'd studied dance in Chicago every summer end taught it all winter, and I was well-rounded. I wasn't worried about getting a job on Broadway. In fact, I got one the first week. ↗

— Gene Kelly

#broadway #chicago #dance #end #every

In front of us, the ocean stretched for eternity. Around us, reggae mussy floated through the air. In our drying clothes and still-damp hair, we ate junk food and talked. At some point we finished and went for a long walk in the sand. We picked up shells, laughed, and talked. Before I knew it, the sun was going down and we went back to the van. We lay side by side, stretched out on the blanket. When the sun dropped completely below the horizon, we let the moon illuminate us. ↗

— Shannon Greenland

#summer #food

Now journeys were not simple matters for Grace; nothing is simple if your mind is a fetch-and-carry wanderer from sliced perilous outer world to secret safe inner world; if when night comes your thought creeps out like a furred animal concealed in the dark, to fine, seize, and kill its food and drag it back to the secret house in the secret world, only to discover that the secret world has disappeared or has so enlarged that it's a public nightmare; if then strange beasts walk upside down like flies on the ceiling; crimson wings flap, the curtains fly; a sad man wearing a blue waistcoat with green buttons sits in the centre of the room, crying because he has swallowed the mirror and it hurts and he burps in flashes of glass and light; if crakes move and cry; the world is flipped, unrolled down in the vast marble stair; a stained threadbare carpet; the hollow silver dancing shoes, hunting-horns... ↗

— Janet Frame

#food