Summer Memory Quotes

#1. I'm a summer baby, so I usually have my birthday as a good summer memory.

Sloane Crosley

#2. The skies she retained in memory were dramas of cloud and sea storm, or the electric sheen before summer thunder in the city, always belonging to the energies of sheer weather, of what was out there, air masses, water vapor, westerlies.

Don DeLillo

#3. A tale begun in other days,
When summer suns were glowing -
A simple chime, that served to time
The rhythm of your rowing -
Whose echoes live in memory yet,
Though envious years would say 'forget.

Lewis Carroll

#4. Beijing was such a different city. There were so few cars, I could walk in the middle of the road. In the summer, the streetlamps attracted swirling bugs. I loved those bugs: crickets, praying mantis, all kinds of beetles. I also have a vivid memory of dazzling sunlight coming out of the sky.

Ma Jun

#5. My selective memory of what drinking was like told me that standing at the bar in a pub, on a summer's evening with a long, tall glass of lager and lime was heaven, and I chose not to remember the nights on which I had sat with a bottle of vodka, a gram of coke and a shotgun, contemplating suicide.

Eric Clapton

#6. The charm is in waiting... The fragrance of a hope... The sublimity of a dream... The eloquence of a silence... The resplendence of darkness... The heat of winter... The cold of summer... The flashback of a memory... The unliving of a moment...

Avijeet Das

#7. Nothing from the summer carries more lasting allure for me than the memory of sitting with Ruth on the bank of a stream on campus, taking turns reading aloud from the books we held on our laps, while the wind wet leaves gossiping in the old trees above us and the creek rustled in its stony bed.

Scott Russell Sanders

#8. Gathering the golden harvest through long summer days leaves a lasting sweetness to ripen in a man's soul. The smell of newly carted hay can be a lasting memory even in strange cities.

Margaret Campbell Barnes

#9. April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us.

T. S. Eliot

#10. October had tremendous possibility. The summer's oppressive heat was a distant memory, and the golden leaves promised a world full of beautiful adventures. They made me believe in miracles.

Sarah Guillory

#11. Memory is the best of all gardens. Therein, winter and summer, the seeds of their past lie dormant, ready to spring into instant bloom at any moment the mind wishes to bring them to life.

Hal Boyle

#12. I think about my mother singing after lunch on a Summer afternoon, twirling in blue dress across the floor of her dressing room

Audrey Niffenegger

#13. Her favourite summer memories were not of events themselves, of picnics, sea bathing, tennis afternoons and cricket matches, but of watching Hugh and Daniel enjoying them and locking into memory the delight in their faces and their open laughter.

Helen Simonson

#14. But things can be over in horizontal time and just beginning in your body, I'm learning. Sometimes the memory of that summer feels like a spore in me, a seed falling through me.

Karen Russell

#15. My first memory of loving music happened so early. We would always go to the beach in the summer and I would run from blanket to blanket, from family to family and just sing Lion King songs acapella.

Taylor Swift

#16. ... remembered summer light, and the luminous inverted ghost of a boy with a parrot on his shoulder.

Michael Chabon

#17. Sometimes a glance, a few casual words, fragments of a melody floating through the quiet air of a summer evening, a book that accidentally comes into hands, a poem or memory-laden fragrance may bring about the impulse which changes and determines our whole life.

Anagarika Govinda

#18. I remember my childhood names for grasses and secret flowers. I remember where a toad may live and what time the birds awaken in the summer
and what trees and seasons smelled like
how people looked and walked and smelled even. The memory of odors is very rich.

John Steinbeck

#19. Rain was falling, quiet rain, penetrating, like thick fog. You know, the terrible rain that rubs out the hours, that lies outside of time, in the eternity of sadness that no longer dares to name itself, autumn rain that erases even the memory of a possible return of summer. It was raining like that.

Marie Bronsard

#20. Memory can glean, but can never renew. It brings us joys faint as is the perfume of the flowers, faded and dried, of the summer that is gone.

Henry Ward Beecher

#21. Whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul, I shall recall the memory of warm, sunny, late summer afternoons like this one, and be comforted greatly.

Peggy Toney Horton

#22. They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, that all of thee we loved and cherished has with thy summer roses perished; and left, as its young beauty fled, an ashen memory in its stead.

John Greenleaf Whittier

#23. Well, she had had the most wonderful summer; she had got that anyhow tucked away up the sleeve of her memory, and could bring it out and look at it when the days were wet and she felt cold and sick.

Elizabeth Von Arnim

#24. Today I have so much to do: I must kill memory once and for all, I must turn my soul to stone, I must learn to live again Unless ... Summer's ardent rustling Is like a festival outside my window.

Anna Akhmatova

#25. Some of the days in November carry the whole memory of summer as a fire opal carries the color of moonrise.

Gladys Taber

#26. The smell of her hair lingered just out of reach of his memory and left him with a nervous hum resonating throughout his body like a child forced to sit in church while the sun was shining outside on a perfectly good summer's day.

Erik Tomblin

#27. memory of Aurelia is as open and frank as the sun on a summer day. But this gives the lie to all that. Anyway, it

Tracy Rees

#28. I pray that the life of this spring and summer may ever lie fair in my memory.

Henry David Thoreau

#29. "Remember that time you dumped out a whole box of bait?"
I almost smile. It was the summer before eighth grade. Dad bought crickets at the bait shop. "They were screaming for help."

A.G. Howard

#30. Death and his scythe do not come. No sweeping black capes or ethereal escapes. There's no pearly gate, no prisms of colors as his soul slips away. The stillness is cold steel. The silence is empty with no memory to mend it.

Laura Kreitzer

#31. December's wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer's memory ...

John Geddes

#32. Now I stand before houses set
on our secret trail, the haunt of arrowheads
and lost Indians the color of small plums,
rooms in which the new boys play, tamed
by computers and a summer waste of games,
where once, in these woods, we tasted wild fruit.

Thomas Dukes

#33. Most days of the year are unremarkable. They begin and they end with no lasting memory made in between. Most days have no impact on the course of a life.

Scott Neustadter