Top Heat In Summer Quotes

Browse top 17 famous quotes and sayings about Heat In Summer by most favorite authors.

Favorite Heat In Summer Quotes

1. "I had been kissed once by someone I liked. His name was Ray and he was Indian. He had an accent and was dark. I wasn't supposed to like him. Clarissa called his large eyes, with their half closed lids, "freak-a-delic," but he was nice and smart and helped me cheat on my algebra exam while pretending he hadn't. He kissed me by my locker the day before we turned in our photos for the yearbook. When the yearbook came out at the end of the summer, I saw that under his picture he had answered the standard "My heart belongs to" with "Susie Salmon." I guess he had had plans. I remember his lips were chapped."
Author: Alice Sebold
2. "There were never strawberries like the ones we hadthat sultry afternoonsitting on the stepof the open french windowfacing each otheryour knees held in minethe blue plates in our lapsthe strawberries glisteningin the hot sunlightwe dipped them in sugarlooking at each othernot hurrying the feastfor one to comethe empty plates laid on the stone togetherwith the two forks crossedand I bent towards yousweet in that airin my armsabandoned like a childfrom your eager mouththe taste of strawberriesin my memorylean back againlet me love youlet the sun beaton our forgetfulnessone hour of allthe heat intenseand summer lightningon the Kilpatrick hillslet the storm wash the plates"
Author: Edwin Morgan
3. "The morning heat had already soaked through the walls, rising up from the floor like a ghost of summers past."
Author: Erik Tomblin
4. "Even so, there were times I saw freshness and beauty. I could smell the air, and I really loved rock 'n' roll. Tears were warm, and girls were beautiful, like dreams. I liked movie theaters, the darkness and intimacy, and I liked the deep, sad summer nights."
Author: Haruki Murakami
5. "In Michigan, if you want to act, it's local theater, it's high school theater and it's going to camp and putting on plays in the summer, and I always loved doing that. There was something that just drew me to it."
Author: James Wolk
6. "You can feel people staring: it's like heat that rise from the pavement during summer, like a poker in the small of your back. You don't have to hear a whisper, either, to know that it's about you. I use to stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom to see what they are staring at. I wanted to know what made their heads turn, what it was about me that was so incredibly different. At first I couldn't tell. I mean, I was just me. Then one day. When I looked in the mirror, I understood. I looked into my own eyes and I hated myself, maybe as much as all of them did. That was the day I started to believe they might be right.jodi picoult"
Author: Jodi Picoult
7. "Growing up, my imagined life as a musician was something along the lines of me lounging in a Learjet en route to a swelling outdoor amphitheatre on a dazzling summer's eve."
Author: Kat Edmonson
8. "Oh mother earthpregnant with seed and budand full-blown roseyour rich dark loamy soil a womb for what we forget predates us in His line of creationyour heart, like hers, does not wait for symbol sun, or child's voice to radiate a love that warms and holds and heals... you do not say "only when I feel the heat of orb or hand, or cradled head" will I rise andnurture,bring forth anddelightyou carry withinyou thetrue light, thelight of Loveso certainin the sure glow ofwhat isthe unshakable Truth that all is Hisand you are butthe incubus of Her Self-expression, a divine imperative to Beand so you rest beneath a blanket of snow,never ceasing to hold bud and blossom in the soft embrace of your ever-conscious vision transfixed onwholeness, perfection,beauty, potential, worthjust as he never forgot that in the summer of hisgrowingthere was also the autumn of his glory,and the springtide of his rising...for us"
Author: Kate Mullane Robertson
9. "I fell for her in summer, my lovely summer girl,From summer she is made, my lovely summer girl,I'd love to spend a winter with my lovely summer girl,But I'm never warm enough for my lovely summer girl,It's summer when she smiles, I'm laughing like a child,It's the summer of our lives; we'll contain it for a whileShe holds the heat, the breeze of summer in the circle of her handI'd be happy with this summer if it's all we ever had."
Author: Maggie Stiefvater
10. "So it comes to this: I would have lost her either way. If Cole hadn't reinfected her, I would have lost her in the hospital bed. And now Cole's wolf tozin pumps through her veins, and I lose her to the woods, like I lose everything I love.So here is me, and I am a boy watched--by her parents' suspicious eyes, since they cannot prove that I kidnapped Grace but believe nonetheless--and I am a boy watchful--because Tom Culpeper's bitterness is growing palpable in this tiny town and I will NOT bury Grace's body--and I am a boy waiting--for the heat and the fruitfulness of summer, waiting to see who will walk out of those woods for me. Waiting for my lovely summer girl."
Author: Maggie Stiefvater
11. "From the sound of pattering raindrops I recaptured the scent of the lilacs at Combray; from the shifting of the sun's rays on the balcony the pigeons in the Champs-Elysées; from the muffling of sounds in the heat of the morning hours, the cool taste of cherries; the longing for Brittany or Venice from the noise of the wind and the return of Easter. Summer was at hand, the days were long, the weather was warm. It was the season when, early in the morning, pupils and teachers repair to the public gardens to prepare for the final examinations under the trees, seeking to extract the sole drop of coolness vouchsafed by a sky less ardent than in the midday heat but already as sterilely pure."
Author: Marcel Proust
12. "Here is my room, in the yellow lamplight and the space heater rumbling: Indian rug red as Cochise's blood, a desk with seven mystic drawers, a chair covered in material as velvety blue-black as Batman's cape, an aquarium holding tiny fish so pale you could see their hearts beat, the aforementioned dresser covered with decals from Revell model airplane kits, a bed with a quilt sewn by a relative of Jefferson Davis's, a closet, and the shelves, oh, yes, the shelves. The troves of treasure. On those shelves are stacks of me: hundreds of comic books- Justice League, Flash, Green Lantern, Batman, the Spirit, Blackhawk, Sgt. Rock and Easy Company, Aquaman, and the Fantastic Four... The shelves go on for miles and miles. My collection of marbles gleams in a mason jar. My dried cicada waits to sing again in the summer. My Duncan yo-yo that whistles except the string is broken and Dad's got to fix it."
Author: Robert McCammon
13. "See them little scales there, how they're closed up tight like window shutters? Underneath 'em are the seeds - flat little things, flimsy as a baby's figernails - with a point at one end. If a fire comes along, the heat is gonna cause those scales to peel back and drop their seeds, while the ground is still scorching hot. Then that tiny seed is gonna burrow in and take root." I was nine years old the summer Freeda and Winnalee Malone rushed across our lives like red-hot flames, peeling back the shutters that sat over our hearts and our minds, setting free our sweetest dreams and our worst nightmares."
Author: Sandra Kring
14. "It's funny how one summer can change everything. It must be something about the heat and the smell of chlorine, fresh-cut grass and honeysuckle, asphalt sizzling after late-day thunderstorms, the steam rising while everything drips around it. Something about long, lazy days and whirring air conditioners and bright plastic flip-flops from the drugstore thwacking down the street. Something about fall being so close, another year, another Christmas, another beginning. So much in one summer, stirring up like the storms that crest at the end of each day, blowing out all the heat and dirt to leave everything gasping and cool. Everyone can reach back to one summer and lay a finger to it, finding the exact point when everything changed. That summer was mine."
Author: Sarah Dessen
15. "~A Comparison of Seasons~Snow's unforgiving power causes some men to wish for spring's flower.Some might hate snow's bitter chill, but you love it at your own will.I see snow as something fun, but others might still long for summer's sun.You and I hate summer's heat, but we still love the warmth of a fire on our feet.Spring has jays whose virtuous songs are nice, but winter's lonely echoes are earth's frigged vice.I enjoy spring's life, yet I still love winter's seemingly harsh sorrow; sometimes I can't get out of the house, so I worry about tomorrow.I love the sight of snow and I treasure the sight of summer's river which swiftly flows.Also, winter can be cold, but we can look forward to seeing spring's life and joy unfold."
Author: Seth D.
16. "It was hard not to feel resentment that men weren't forced into these choices. Some days she felt that she would spend all her time trying to forget her life before children because she loved them too much to be reminded of the heat of Rome in the summer and a beautiful girl who turned heads as she walked down an Italian strada."
Author: Whitney Otto
17. "While the train flashed through never-ending miles of ripe wheat, by country towns and bright-flowered pastures and oak groves wilting in the sun, we sat in the observation car, where the woodwork was hot to the touch and red dust lay deep over everything. The dust and heat, the burning wind, reminded us of many things. We were talking about what it is like to spend one's childhood in little towns like these, buried in wheat and corn, under stimulating extremes of climate: burning summers when the world lies green and billowy beneath a brilliant sky, when one is fairly stifled in vegetation, in the color and smell of strong weeds and heavy harvests; blustery winters with little snow, when the whole country is stripped bare and gray as sheet-iron. We agreed that no one who had not grown up in a little prairie town could know anything about it. It was a kind of freemasonry, we said."
Author: Willa Cather

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Every man lives by exchanging."
Author: Adam Smith

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