“The unlucky ones are those for whom summer was ending, in their thoughts, even as it began.
We, the unlucky ones, are cursed with the capacity to see the ending in every beginning. It is one of the dismal faculties some people some people develop after they first discover their own personal time is constantly accelerating. Later on, if they turn lucky, they are blessed again, not with the blessing of childhood, which is that each moment can seem eternal and complete for itself, but with the blessing of wisdom and philosophy, which can conquer the foreordained passing of a precious thing, like a summer.’’
-- From the September section of In Praise of Seasons, by the late Connecticut editor and essayist Alan H. Olmstead