Summer Garden Quotes

I don't want this life to end," said Alexander. "The good, the bad, the everything, the very old, to ever end.

Blessed be the Lord for the beauty of summer and spring, for the air, the water, the verdure, and the song of birds.

All your renown is like the summer flower that blooms and dies; because the sunny glow which brings it forth, soon slays with parching power.

It was a splendid summer morning and it seemed as if nothing could go wrong.

A late summer garden has a tranquility found no other time of the year.

Where was he, her Alexander, of once? Was he truly gone? The Alexander of the Summer Garden, of their first Lazarevo days, of the hat in his hands, white toothed, peaceful, laughing, languid, stunning Alexander, had he been left far behind? Well, Tatiana supposed that was only right. For Alexander believed his Tatiana of once was gone, too. The swimming child Tatiana of the Luga, of the Neva, of the River Kama. Perhaps on the surface they were still in their twenties, but their hearts were old.

To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—

What a man needs in gardening is a cast-iron back, with a hinge in it.

Falling in love with you in the Summer Garden in the white nights in Leningrad is the moment that propels me through life.

The summer night is like a perfection of thought.

Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.

Love is to the heart what the summer is to the farmer's year. It brings to harvest all the loveliest flowers of the soul.

Oh, the summer night, Has a smile of light, And she sits on a sapphire throne.

Do what we can, summer will have its flies.

What is one to say about June, the time of perfect young summer, the fulfillment of the promise of the earlier months, and with as yet no sign to remind one that its fresh young beauty will ever fade.

Then followed that beautiful season... Summer.... Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.

I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.

We’ll meet again in Lvov, my love and I…” Tatiana hums, eating her ice cream, in our Leningrad, in jasmine June, near Fontanka, the Neva, the Summer Garden, where we are forever young.

I know that if odour were visible, as colour is, I'd see the summer garden in rainbow clouds.

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.

Remember that children, marriages, and flower gardens reflect the kind of care they get.

I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer. My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music. It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips.

A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing and mojito in your hand.

If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance.

I love you. I'm blind for you, wild for you. Sick with you. I told you that our first night together when I asked you to marry me, I am telling you now. Everything that's happened to us, everything, is because I crossed the street for you. I worship you. You know that through and through.

I find you in all small and lovely things; in the little fishes like flames in the green water, in the furred and stupid softness of bumble-bees fat as laughter, in all the chiming radiance of warmth and light and scent in the summer garden.

Nature will bear the closest inspection. She invites us to lay our eye level with her smallest leaf, and take an insect view of its plain.

Summer is the time when one sheds one's tensions with one's clothes, and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit. A few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all's right with the world.

There is no real need for decorations when throwing a barbecue party - let the summer garden, in all its vibrant and luscious splendour, speak for itself.

There ought to be gardens for all months in the year, in which, severally, things of beauty may be then in season.

Gardening imparts an organic perspective on the passage of time.

Heat, ma am! It was so dreadful here that I found there was nothing left for it but to take off my flesh and sit in my bones.

This was one of those perfect New England days in late summer where the spirit of autumn takes a first stealing flight, like a spy, through the ripening country-side, and, with feigned sympathy for those who droop with August heat, puts her cool cloak of bracing air about leaf and flower and human shoulders.

If there were no tribulation, there would be no rest; if there were no winter, there would be no summer.

Sometimes I wonder what I'm a-gonna do 'Cause there ain't no cure for the summertime blues.

People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy.

Someone is sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago.

Just living is not enough... one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.

Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.

I want it said of me by those who knew me best, that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower where I thought a flower would grow.