All we need is the truth in our hand.
Someone to call a friend.
Never fear the darkness.
All we need is just the sun in the sky.
And the hope of a summer to come with the meaning of love.
What is life, when wanting love? Night without a morning; love’s the cloudless summer sun, nature gay adorning.
A life without love is like a year without summer.
Love is to the heart what the summer is to the farmer’s year — it brings to harvest all the loveliest flowers of the soul.
Summer set lip to earth’s bosom bare,
And left the flushed print in a poppy there
Edna St. Vincent Millay
I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall Death brag thou wand’rest in his shade
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So ling lives this, and this gives life to thee.
But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat,
The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat,
To closer shades the panting flocks remove;
Ye gods! And is there no relief for love?
If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance.