A Quote by Horace
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For one swallow does not make a summer, nor does one day; and so too one day, or a short time, does not make a man blessed and happy.
My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.
Tonight the caustic wind, love,
Gossips late and soon,
And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon.
While like an early summer plum,
Puny, green, and tart,
Droops upon its wizened stem
My lean, unripened heart.
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.
One swallow alone does not make a summer.
It requires a conviction that every people has a unique contribution to give to mankind, and that this they must make or remain sterile, subservient, sallow, and that this contribution they must have commenced to make before they can hope to understand the spirit that informs all great works and inspires all noble living.
Not only does the summer bring warm weather and tons of summer activities, but it also yields a fresh crop of increasingly useful avocados!
The activity of happiness must occupy an entire lifetime; for one swallow does not a summer make.
One swallow does not make a summer, but one skein of geese, cleaving the murk of March thaw, is the Spring.
If you talk about race, it does not make you a racist. If you see distinctions between the genders, it does not make you a sexist. If you think critically about a denomination, it does not make you anti-religion. If you accept but don't celebrate homosexuality, it does not make you a homophobe.
Summer was here again. Summer, summer, summer. I loved and hated summers. Summers had a logic all their own and they always brought something out in me. Summer was supposed to be about freedom and youth and no school and possibilities and adventure and exploration. Summer was a book of hope. That's why I loved and hated summers. Because they made me want to believe.
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.
Human good turns out to be activity of soul exhibiting excellence, and if there is more than one sort of excellence, in accordance with the best and most complete.Foroneswallowdoesnot makea summer, nor does one day; and so too one day, or a short time, does not make a man blessed and happy.
'Boys of Summer,' to me, is like the end of the summer, man. That heartbreaking feeling where you have to go back to school, your summer love is coming to an end, and the leaves are changing. That was always such an emotional time for me as a kid, because I loved summer so much.
I used to go to sports camp every summer. I'd make a lot of new friends, and it was all athletic. It was basically a place for parents to send their kids to run out all their summer energy for two weeks.
I didn't sleep much in the summer of '98. Was getting ready to move to New York City. Start a band. That was a madman's summer. A summer of change.
The way the music comes to you starts to affect how you listen to music. When you're a kid, it's 'Does it rock? Does it make me feel good? Does it make me tap my feet? Does it make me go to sleep?'
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