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Solomon Schechter:
"One likes to think of the old days when devotion was not yet procurable ready-made from hymn-books run by the theological syndicates... You can see by their abruptness and their unfinished state that they were not the product of elaborate literary art, but were penned down in the excitement of the moment of a "fit of love", so to speak, to express the religious aspirations of the writer. Their metre may be faulty, their diction crude, and their grammar questionable, but love letter are not, as a rule, distinguished by perfection of style. They are sublime stammering at best though they are intelligible enough to two souls absorbed in each other."
This has come up in my reading twice recently, and it's lovely, and worth sharing, I thought. Romanticism, but who cares?
"One likes to think of the old days when devotion was not yet procurable ready-made from hymn-books run by the theological syndicates... You can see by their abruptness and their unfinished state that they were not the product of elaborate literary art, but were penned down in the excitement of the moment of a "fit of love", so to speak, to express the religious aspirations of the writer. Their metre may be faulty, their diction crude, and their grammar questionable, but love letter are not, as a rule, distinguished by perfection of style. They are sublime stammering at best though they are intelligible enough to two souls absorbed in each other."
This has come up in my reading twice recently, and it's lovely, and worth sharing, I thought. Romanticism, but who cares?