August Quotes

Spread the love

August Quotes

 

“People were messy. They were defined not only by what they’d done, but by what they would have done, under different circumstances, molded as much by their regrets as their actions, choices they stood by and those they wished they could undo. Of course, there was no going back – time only moved forward – but people could change.

For worse.

And for better.

It wasn’t easy. The world was complicated. Life was hard. And so often, living hurt.

So make it worth the pain.”
― Victoria Schwab, Our Dark Duet

 

“August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.”
― Sylvia Plath

 

“We can’t possibly have a summer love. So many people have tried that the name’s become proverbial. Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It’s a sad season of life without growth…It has no day.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise

 

“I didn’t stop fighting,” he said, the words so low he worried Kate wouldn’t hear them, but she did. “I just got tired of losing. It’s easier this way.”

“Of course it’s easier,” said Kate. “that doesn’t mean it’s right.”
― Victoria Schwab, Our Dark Duet

 

“The whole thing’s illusion, [Jacob], and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s what people want from us. It’s what they expect.”
― Sara Gruen, Water for Elephants

 

“August stared at her, aghast. “Did I know that kissing you would bring your soul to surface? That – THAT – would have the same effect as pain or music? No, I must have missed that lesson.”

She stared at him, agape. “August, was that sarcasm?”
― Victoria Schwab, Our Dark Duet

 

“I’d rather be able to see the truth than live a lie.”
― Victoria Schwab, This Savage Song

“The children start school now in August. They say it has to do with air-conditioning, but I know sadism when I see it.”
― Rick Bragg, My Southern Journey: True Stories from the Heart of the South
“Summer has no day,’ she said. ‘We can’t possibly have a summer love. So many people have tried that the name’s become proverbial. Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It’s a sad season of life without growth…it has no day.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise
“The month of August had turned into a griddle where the days just lay there and sizzled.”
― Sue Monk Kidd, The Secret Life of Bees
Every year, the bright Scandinavian summer nights fade without anyone’s noticing. One evening in August you have an errand outdoors, and all of a sudden it’s pitch-black. It is still summer, but the summer is no longer alive.”
― Tove Jansson, The Summer Book
“This morning, the sun endures past dawn. I realise that it is August: the summer’s last stand.”
― Sara Baume, A Line Made by Walking
“August was nearly over – the month of apples and falling stars, the last care-free month for the school children. The days were not hot, but sunny and limpidly clear – the first sign of advancing autumn.”
― Viktor Nekrasov
“In June we picked the clover,
And sea-shells in July:
There was no silence at the door,
No word from the sky.A hand came out of August
And flicked his life away:
We had not time to bargain, mope,
Moralize, or pray.”
― Cecil Day-Lewis, Overtures to Death and Other Poems
“The perfectly good car comes with a perfectly dangerous girl.”
― Victoria Schwab, This Savage Song
“August is a gentle reminder for not doing a single thing from your new year resolution for seven months and not doing it for next five.”
― Crestless Wave

“The Pond”

August of another summer, and once again
I am drinking the sun
and the lilies again are spread across the water.
I know now what they want is to touch each other.
I have not been here for many years
during which time I kept living my life.
Like the heron, who can only croak, who wishes he
could sing,
I wish I could sing.
A little thanks from every throat would be appropriate.
This is how it has been, and this is how it is:
All my life I have been able to feel happiness,
except whatever was not happiness,
which I also remember.
Each of us wears a shadow.
But just now it is summer again
and I am watching the lilies bow to each other,
then slide on the wind and the tug of desire,
close, close to one another,
Soon now, I’ll turn and start for home.
And who knows, maybe I’ll be singing.”
― Mary Oliver, Felicity

“Now the windows, blinded by the glare of the empty square, had fallen asleep. The balconies declared their emptiness to heaven; the open doorways smelt of coolness and wine.”
― Bruno Schulz, The Street of Crocodiles
“The flavor that came to me was a luscious Suncrest peach that I once had in California. This heirloom variety needed time to ripen on the tree to achieve its peak flavor. Unlike other peaches that were picked unripe so they would ship more easily. Suncrest peaches had to be eaten right away. But they were worth it- fragrant, luscious, juice-dripping-down-your-chin perfection.
The problem was that I didn’t have any peach mousse or filling. But I quickly improvised.
“You’re getting married in August, when peaches are in season,” I said. “Taste our browned butter yellow cake with a little apricot and some vanilla-almond buttercream, and see what you think.”
As they each took a small bite of what I hoped would be their signature cake flavors, I was drawn back into the taste of the peach. It was juicy and sweet, but as I got close to the center of the peach, their was an off flavor of rot. In my mind’s eye, I could see a darkened area close to the center that would soon cause the peach to wither. I knew what that meant.
I didn’t know whose life would be blighted, but these golden days were few. They wouldn’t have much time together.”
― Judith M. Fertig, The Memory of Lemon
“It’s hard to reconcile this August with the other one. and to be honest I don’t try very hard. I’ve seen flashes of this August before-This brightness, this conviviality, this generosity of spirit-but I know what he’s capable of, and I won’t forget it. The others can believe what they like, but I don’t believe for a second that this is the real August and the other an aberration And yet I can see how they might be fooled-”
― Sara Gruen, Water for Elephants
Take me to that island where people celebrate in the streets in August, -No Titles Required!
Take me to Barbados..246”
― Charmaine J. Forde
“August is that last flicker of fun and heat before everything fades and dies. The final moments of fun before the freeze. In the winter, everything changes.”
― Rasmenia Massoud, You Don’t See Any of This

 

“When you stand on the banks
of Penn Swamp Pond in August,
those injuries can save your life
and keep you picking till the bush is bare.”
― Charles Rafferty, Where the Glories of April Lead

 

“Quinnipeague in August was a lush green place where inchworms dangled from trees whose leaves were so full that the eaten parts were barely missed. Mornings meant ‘thick o’ fog’ that caught on rooftops and dripped, blurring weathered gray shingles while barely muting the deep pink of rosa rugosa or the hydrangea’s blue. Wood smoke filled the air on rainy days, pine sap on sunny ones, and wafting through it all was the briny smell of the sea.”
― Barbara Delinsky, Sweet Salt Air

 

“He waited for me to stand and join him, then he threaded our fingers together. My best friend, the boy I’d loved my entire life, was holding my hand.”
― Kelly Siskind, Licks

 

“Terrified he was about to say the three most terrifying words in the English language, I opened my ridiculous mouth, and blurted, “I stole your underwear.”

Gwen Hamilton, winner of the Dumbest Confession Award.”
― Kelly Siskind, Licks

 

“In August, an inescapable blanket of heat settled over Paducah, the last gasping breath of summer roaring its weight out over the populace.”
― Kelsey Brickl, Paint

 

“And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.”

—F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

 

 “It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.”

―Maud Hart Lovelace, Betsy-Tacy and Tib

 

 “In the long dusks of summer we walked the suburban streets through scents of maple and cut grass, waiting for something to happen.”

―Steven Millhauser, Dangerous Laughter

 

“Everything good, everything magical happens between the months of June and August.”

—Jenny Han, The Summer I Turned Pretty

 

“When people went on vacation, they shed their home skins, thought they could be a new person.”

―Aimee Friedman, Sea Change

 

“August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.”

―Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

 

“The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.”

―Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting

 

 “Now the windows, blinded by the glare of the empty square, had fallen asleep. The balconies declared their emptiness to heaven; the open doorways smelt of coolness and wine.”

―Bruno Schulz, The Street of Crocodiles

 

 “Hot weather opens the skull of a city, exposing its white brain, and its heart of nerves, which sizzle like the wires inside a lightbulb. And there exudes a sour extra-human smell that makes the very stone seem flesh-alive, webbed and pulsing.”

―Truman Capote, Summer Crossing

 

 “Life, now, was unfolding before me, constantly and visibly, like the flowers of summer that drop fanlike petals on eternal soil.”

―Roman Payne, Rooftop Soliloquy

 

 “Green was the silence, wet was the light,

the month of June trembled like a butterfly.”

―Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

 

“In the summer, the days were long, stretching into each other. Out of school, everything was on pause and yet happening at the same time, this collection of weeks when anything was possible.”

―Sarah Dessen, Along for the Ride

 

 “The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last for ever. Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year – the days when summer is changing into autumn – the crickets spread the rumor of sadness and change.”

―E.B. White, Charlotte’s Web

 

“If it could only be like this always – always summer, always alone, the fruit always ripe and Aloysius in a good temper…”

―Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited

 

 “The summer stretched out the daylight as if on a rack. Each moment was drawn out until its anatomy collapsed. Time broke down. The day progressed in an endless sequence of dead moments.”

―China Miéville, Perdido Street Station

 

It was rapture enough just to sit there beside him in silence, alone in the summer night in the white splendor of moonshine, with the wind blowing down on them out of the pine woods.”

―L.M. Montgomery, The Blue Castle

 

 “At these times, the things that troubled her seemed far away and unimportant: all that mattered was the hum of the bees and the chirp of birdsong, the way the sun gleamed on the edge of a blue wildflower, the distant bleat and clink of grazing goats.”

―Alison Croggon, The Naming

 

 “The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake, the satin-green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze: June had arrived.”

―J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

 

 “The morning heat had already soaked through the walls, rising up from the floor like a ghost of summers past.”

―Erik Tomblin, Riverside Blues

 

 “Again and again, the cicada’s untiring cry pierced the sultry summer air like a needle at work on thick cotton cloth.”

―Yukio Mishima, Runaway Horses: The Sea of Fertility, 2

 

 “August has passed, and yet summer continues by force to grow days. They sprout secretly between the chapters of the year, covertly included between its pages.”

―Jonathan Safran Foer, Tree of Codes

 

“The beauty of that June day was almost staggering. After the wet spring, everything that could turn green had outdone itself in greenness and everything that could even dream of blooming or blossoming was in bloom and blossom. The sunlight was a benediction. The breezes were so caressingly soft and intimate on the skin as to be embarrassing.”

―Dan Simmons, Drood

 

“I have only to break into the tightness of a strawberry, and I see summer – its dust and lowering skies.”

―Toni Morrison, The Bluest Eye

 

“Summer was on the way; Jem and I awaited it with impatience. Summer was our best season: it was sleeping on the back screened porch in cots, or trying to sleep in the tree house; summer was everything good to eat; it was a thousand colors in a parched landscape; but most of all, summer was Dill.”

―Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

 

 “The summer night was settling upon the neighborhood like a dark lace veil, casting dappled shadows on the roofs and sidewalks and lawns.”

―Victoria Kahler, Luisa Across the Bay

 

“The spring rains woke the dormant tillers, and bright green shoots sprang from the moist earth and rose like sleepers stretching after a long nap. As spring gave way to summer, the bright green stalks darkened, became tan, turned golden brown. The days grew long and hot. Thick towers of swirling black clouds brought rain, and the brown stems glistened in the perpetual twilight that dwelled beneath the canopy. The wheat rose and the ripening heads bent in the prairie wind, a rippling curtain, an endless, undulating sea that stretched to the horizon.”

―Rick Yancey, The Infinite Sea

 

 “Summer, after all, is a time when wonderful things can happen to quiet people. For those few months, you’re not required to be who everyone thinks you are, and that cut-grass smell in the air and the chance to dive into the deep end of a pool give you a courage you don’t have the rest of the year. You can be grateful and easy, with no eyes on you, and no past. Summer just opens the door and lets you out.”

―Deb Caletti, Honey, Baby, Sweetheart

 

“Summer set lip to earth’s bosom bare;

And left the flushed print in a poppy there:

Like a yawn of fire from the grass it came,

And the fanning wind puffed it to flapping flame.”

―Francis Thompson, “The Poppy”

 

“Overhead hung a summer sky furrowed with the rush of rockets; and from the east a late moon, pushing up beyond the lofty bend of the coast, sent across the bay a shaft of brightness which paled to ashes in the red glitter of the illuminated boats.”

―Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth

 

“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.”

―Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

 

“Spring flew swiftly by, and summer came; and if the village had been beautiful at first, it was now in the full glow and luxuriance of its richness. The great trees, which had looked shrunken and bare in the earlier months, had now burst into strong life and health; and stretching forth their green arms over the thirsty ground, converted open and naked spots into choice nooks, where was a deep and pleasant shade from which to look upon the wide prospect, steeped in sunshine, which lay stretched out beyond. The earth had donned her mantle of brightest green; and shed her richest perfumes abroad. It was the prime and vigour of the year; all things were glad and flourishing.”

—Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist

 

 “We thread our way through a moving forest of ice-cream cones and crimson thighs.”

―Jean-Dominique Bauby, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

 

It is easy to forget now, how effervescent and free we all felt that summer. Everything fades: the shimmer of gold over White Cove; the laughter in the night air; the lavender early morning light on the faces of skyscrapers, which had suddenly become so heroically tall. Every dawn seemed to promise fresh miracles, among other joys that are in short supply these days.”

―Anna Godbersen, Bright Young Things

 

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

―John Lubbock, The Use Of Life

 

“All in all, it was a never to be forgotten summer — one of those summers which come seldom into any life, but leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going — one of those summers which, in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, delightful friends and delightful doing, come as near to perfection as anything can come in this world.”

—L.M. Montgomery, Anne’s House of Dreams

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*