A man says a lot of things in summer he doesn't mean in winter.
Patricia BriggsMots clés change mind winter summer
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.
Mots clés school autumn summer 60
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Eighth grade's a distant rumor, a tabled issue, and Dylan knows from experience that the summer between might change anything, everything. He and Mingus Rude too and even Arthur Lomb for that matter are released from the paint-by-numbers page of their schooldays, from their preformatted roles as truant or victim, freed to an unspoiled summer, that inviting medium for doodling in self-transformation.
Jonathan LethemMots clés school summer 151 vacation
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How often had that hydrant even been opened? Did you jet water through a car window, what, twice at best? Summer burned just a few afternoons long, in the end.
As for flying, Dose never even glanced at the sky. Flying was a summer within a summer, a whim. So why think of it at all?
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Summer's lease hath all too short a date.
William ShakespeareAnd so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
F. Scott FitzgeraldCome with me,' Mom says.
To the library.
Books and summertime
go together.
Mots clés books library summer
If it could only be like this always – always summer, always alone, the fruit always ripe and Aloysius in a good temper...
Evelyn WaughMots clés happy summer teddy-bear sebastian
Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don't they should, for their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers.
Ray BradburyMots clés summer bees bradbury
The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.
Natalie BabbittMots clés opening-lines summer
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