Do what we can, summer will have its flies. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

[W]oods are filled with the music of birds, and all nature is laughing under the glorious influence of Summer. – Charles Lanman, “The Dying Year,” 1840

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. – Sydney Smith, Lady Holland’s Memoir

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