August brings into sharp focus and a furious boil everything I've been listening to in the late spring and summer.

August, the summer's last messenger of misery, is a hollow actor.

Juan Williams is a very sharp guy.

In winter, I plot and plan. In spring, I move.

We can't possibly have a summer love. So many people have tried that the name's become proverbial. Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It's a sad season of life without growth...It has no day.

Early spring is the time for vigorous change, a preparation for the heat-driven oppression that is to come.