In this summer heat, I must remember that the realest things are the closest and farthest away, like the warmth found in winter: the heat hidden in the folds of one's coat, a lost floating breath, a kiss across the distance of zero degrees.

Meia Geddes
Some Similar Quotes
  1. I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain. - John Keats

  2. What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness. - John Steinbeck

  3. Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance. Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence. Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance. - Yoko Ono

  4. One swallow does not make a summer, neither does one fine day; similarly one day or brief time of happiness does not make a person entirely happy. - Aristotle

  5. 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

More Quotes By Meia Geddes
  1. Suffice to say, the dream writer had a way of phrasing things. She could depict the curve of a cucumber, the shape of a sunbeam, the endearing, velvety tilt of a peach, in just such a way that she earned her living selling dreams. One...

  2. The little queen lived in a world where the sky swirled like the sea and nothing was itself for very long. Everything looked to be in brushstrokes.

  3. Cutting down a wall, the wall sawyer could feel the tension in a home ease and something windy rush in circles round her feet. It was addictive, each a sweet victory of art. The tumbling motion of a falling wall was like a volcanic eruption...

  4. Art allows us to die over and over without actually dying. Only we must catch our breath.

  5. I let quiet shape what I say, then realize there is nothing that can be fully said–the reason for gestures and eyes and art. Always something waiting, wanting, expectant, yet also curiously not.

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