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“A flame that flickered,
And a soul that whimpered,
A candle that blazed,
And a fragrance that raised.
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The flames were fed the same,
But one remained diminished,
While the other touched vintage!”
― Jasleen Kaur Gumber

“The world did have too many words. The sound of the rain was all we needed.”
― Benjamin Alire Sáenz, The Inexplicable Logic of My Life

“These summer nights are short. Going to bed before midnight is unthinkable and talk, wine, moonlight and the warm air are often in league to defer it one, two or three hours more. It seems only a moment after falling asleep out of doors that dawn touches one gently on the shoulder, and, completely refreshed, up one gets, or creeps into the shade or indoors for another luxurious couple of hours. The afternoon is the time for real sleep: into the abyss one goes to emerge when the colours begin to revive and the world to breathe again about five o'clock, ready once more for the rigours and pleasures of late afternoon, the evening, and the night.”
― Patrick Leigh Fermor, Mani: Travels in the Southern Peloponnese

“The warmth of summer, the richness of expansion that creates the perfect environment for a body that wants to feel at least the illusion of warmth on top of its' old persevering soul that dwells within. This season, I no longer try to reach for that external warmth, but rather pray to find that spark that could light me up from deep inside. I trust my intuition and I know it is near, if only my eyes wouldn't be blinded by the sun.”
― Virgil Kalyana Mittata Iordache