A Quote by Elizabeth von Arnim

And the summer seems as though it would dream on for ever. — © Elizabeth von Arnim
And the summer seems as though it would dream on for ever.
Autumn truly is what summer pretends to be: the best of all seasons. It is as glorious as summer is tedious; as subtle as summer is obvious; as refreshing as summer is wearying. Autumn seems like paradise.
I fell for her in summer, my lovely summer girl, From summer she is made, my lovely summer girl, I’d love to spend a winter with my lovely summer girl, But I’m never warm enough for my lovely summer girl, It’s summer when she smiles, I’m laughing like a child, It’s the summer of our lives; we’ll contain it for a while She holds the heat, the breeze of summer in the circle of her hand I’d be happy with this summer if it’s all we ever had.
Seems like Ive been here before. Seems so familiar. Seems like Im slipping into a dream within a dream.
The rich man has his motorcar, His country and his town estate, He smokes a fifty-cent cigar And jeers at Fate. He frivols through the livelong day, He knows not Poverty, her pinch. His lot seems light, his heart seems gay; He has a cinch. Yet though my lamp burns low and dim, Though I must slave for livelihood- Think you that I would change with him? You bet I would!
As a kid, I was naive. One thing I did have a dream of, though: I had a dream I would make a kung-fu movie.
The fire in leaf and grass so green it seems each summer the last summer.
In case you haven't heard, my girlfriends and I have declared the summer of 2012 as the best summer ever. The best way to document said 'best summer ever' is with a good ol' disposable camera. Smile, click, move on! Nobody gets pic approval, and there's no time wasted gathering around the camera to analyze a moment that just happened.
We have now gone beyond 100 in number, and the desire to join seems rather to increase, though it was thought the foundations would retard it, it seems quite otherwise.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet Though to itself it only live and die
Into the winter's gray delight, Into the summer's golden dream, Holy and high and impartial, Death, the mother of Life, Mingles all men for ever.
I had a dream to be an attorney. I don't know if I ever would've passed the bar or not, but that was my dream.
I have this dream where Little Chino keeps showing up at my door. I would have to kill him even though I was at home trying to have a nice meal with my family. Every time he (Chino) would come to the door, I'm like, 'you again!' But I was myself (not Dexter) in the dream. I'm rolling my eyes in the dream because it is so absurd. It was like, this is ridiculous because you (Chino) are not even real!
I don't think the summer is short. I would rather play hockey than work out in the gym. It would be tougher if summer was longer. You have your two or three weeks to take off. You have plenty of time to go back and see family and friends. I don't want summer to be any longer.
If it happens, I'll be proud, and it would be a dream come true, though I doubt I ever thought I'd be a Hall of Famer when I started. It wasn't until late in my career that people started to mention it, and you start thinking about it a little bit.
Those bitter sorrows of childhood!-- when sorrow is all new and strange, when hope has not yet got wings to fly beyond the days and weeks, and the space from summer to summer seems measureless.
Language is, in other words, not necessary, but voluntary. If it were necessary, it would have stayed simple; it would not agitate our hearts with ever-present loveliness and ever-cresting ambiguity; it would not dream, on its long white bones, of turning into song.
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