I still remember the very moment I fell in love with you.
“The final test of a novel will be our affection for it, as it is the test of our friends, and of anything else which we cannot define. Sentimentality—to some a worse demon than chronology—will lurk in the background saying, ‘oh, but I like that,’ ‘oh, but that doesn’t appeal to me,’ and all I can promise is that sentimentality shall not speak too loudly or too soon. The intensely, stiflingly human quality of the novel is not to be avoided; the novel is sogged with humanity; there is no escaping the uplift or the downpour, nor can they be kept out of criticism. We may hate humanity, but if it is exorcised or even purified the novel wilts, little is left but a bunch of words.”— E.M. Forster, from his introductory lecture at Cambridge University (1927), Aspects of the Novel
“I fell asleep in the deep velvet of this wood; I dreamt divine things.”— Delmira Agustini, from Morning Songs: Poems; “The Wings,” c. 1910
