Booth Tarkington

“ Don't you think love is sacred if it's the real thing?"
"Ess," said Miss Pratt. "Do Flopit again. Be Flopit!"
"Berp-werp! Berp-werp-werp."
And within the library an agonized man writhed and muttered:
"Word! Word! Word—"
This hoarse repetition had become almost continuous.
... But out on the porch, that little, jasmine-scented bower in Arcady where youth cried to youth and golden heads were haloed in the moonshine, there fell a silence. Not utter silence, for out there an ethereal music sounded constantly, unheard and forgotten by older ears. ”

“ On the wonderful evening of their first meeting William and Miss Pratt had cozily arranged to be called, respectively, "Ickle boy Baxter" and "Cousin Lola." (Thus they had broken down the tedious formalities of their first twenty minutes together.)
"Don't you think love is sacred?" he repeated in the deepest tone of which his vocal cords were capable.
"Ess," said Miss Pratt.
"I do!" William was emphatic. "I think love is the most sacred thing there is. I don't mean SOME kinds of love. I mean real love. You take some people, I don't believe they ever know what real love means. ”

“ William continued, his voice lifting and thrilling to the great theme—"love is something nobody can ever have but one time in their lives, and if they don't have it then, why prob'ly they never will. Now, if a man really loves a girl, why he'd do anything in the world she wanted him to. ”