Summer is a promissory note signed in June, its long days spent and gone before you know it, and due to be repaid next January.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Summer is the annual permission slip to be lazy. To do nothing and have it count for something. To lie in the grass and count the stars. To sit on a branch and study the clouds.
Summer means happy times and good sunshine. It means going to the beach, going to Disneyland, having fun.
I am a summer person.
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.
Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer does come.
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.
Summer is very precious.
April is a promise that May is bound to keep.
Summer is not obligatory. We can start an infernally hard jigsaw puzzle in June with the knowledge that, if there are enough rainy days, we may just finish it by Labor Day, but if not, there's no harm, no penalty. We may have better things to do.
I was lucky enough not to face any required summer reading lists until I went to college. So I still think of summer as the best time to read for fun.
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