“All day the heat had been barely supportable but at evening a breeze arose in the West, blowing from the heart of the setting sun and from the ocean, which lay unseen, unheard behind the scrubby foothills. It shook the rusty fringes of palm-leaf and swelled the dry sounds of summer, the frog-voices, the grating cicadas, and the ever present pulse of music from the neighbouring native huts.”

— Evelyn Waugh , book The Loved One

First lines
The Loved One (1948)

Adopted from Wikiquote. Last update June 3, 2021. History

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Evelyn Waugh 123

British writer 1903–1966

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“Instead of saying that “the sun rises from East”, we can easily replace the sun with Christianity. It rose from the East and set in the West.”

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“I guess I felt attached to my weakness. My pain and suffering too. Summer light, the smell of a breeze, the sound of cicadas - if I like these things, why should I apologize?”

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“We can set our deeds to the music of a grateful heart, and seek to round our lives into a hymn — the melody of which will be recognized by all who come in contact with us, and the power of which shall not be evanescent, like the voice of the singer, but perenninal, like the music of the spheres.”

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“The weather today is frightful, rain and wind. You must be having the same at Epping; it's a pity. It had been so fine for the last few days and I had begun to grind away from nature. This is infuriating, for it's the loveliest time of the year, September and October. I can't stand the summer any more, with its heavy, monotonous green, its dry distances where everything can be seen, the torment of the great heat... Artistic sensations revive in September and October, but then it rains and blows!”

Camille Pissarro (1830–1903) French painter

In a letter to his son Lucien, 15 September 1893, as quoted in Letters of the great artists – from Blake to Pollock - , Richard Friedenthal, Thames and Hudson, London, 1963, p. 148
1890's

“In July, my father left to take the waters; he left me with my mother and older brother at the mercy of the summer days, white from the heat and stunning. Stupefied by the light, we leafed through that great book of the holiday, in which the pages were ablaze with splendour, their sickly sweet pulp, deep within, made from golden pears.”

Bruno Schulz (1892–1942) Polish novelist and painter

“August” http://www.schulzian.net/translation/shops/august1.htm
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“Under the sun the summer grasses fade.
The rose, expiring after the harsh ravage
Of the heat, languishes toward the shade.
Sleep drips from the foliage.”

Renée Vivien (1877–1909) British poet who wrote in the French language

L’herbe de l’été pâlit sous le soleil.
La rose, expirant sous les âpres ravages
Des chaleurs, languit vers l’ombre, et le sommeil
Coule des feuillages.
La fraîcheur se glisse http://www.reneevivien.com/sapho.html#fraicheur (Coolness glides...), trans. Margaret Porter (1977)
Sapho http://www.reneevivien.com/sapho.html (1903)

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Evelyn Waugh 123

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