In MYOB I wrote that the word love should never take an adjective. It really shouldn't you know, at least within the realm of society politics and especially the foul progeny of their incestuous intercourse: religion.

And yet, many poets have sought to discriminate among love's countless subtle shades with words of gold. The difference here, of course, is that the writers seek merely to enshrine it with delicacy and discerning, casting it within beautiful language to open our eyes. Their words point out the sorts of things we all ought to notice and treasure. So, I back up a bit here. If the adjective is intended to rend the veil of the temple--liberate, not incarcerate-- then by all means let's go for it!

I once had a girlfriend (damn...that could be a macro in my word processor) with whom I watched the finest television series ever made, Brideshead Revisited. Truly; partisans and skeptics alike rate this 1980-something show as the high-water mark of TV. Of course, it comes to us by way of the English author Evelyn Waugh, one of my all time favorite novelists.

Side-note: Just this year I watched wonderful lecture delivered by the masterful Stephen Fry. In his introductory remarks Fry emphasized how important the three W's have been in his life: Wilde, Waugh and Wodehouse. Well, at least I had discovered two-thirds of those chaps back in 1974...

Anyway, back to the TV viewing.