Summer-induced stupidity. That was the diagnosis, I decided as I made my way up the dirt path in the pouring rain. – Aimee Friedman, Sea Change

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. – Violette Leduc, Mad in Pursuit

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. – Author Unknown

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under the trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the blue sky, is by no means waste of time. – John Lubbock, “Recreation,” The Use of Life, 1894