I’m reading Emma by Jane Austen at the moment, and this afternoon I came across a passage that took my breath away:

“He had ridden home through the rain; and had walked up directly after dinner, to see how this sweetest and best of all creatures, faultless in spite of all her faults, bore the discovery.”

Oh, to be loved like that. To be, in someone’s eyes, the “sweetest and best of all creatures.” For them to see me as “faultless in spite of all my faults.”

I think I just swooned.