I've started reading Goethe's The Sorrows of Young Werther, and if there's anything like a rose-colored wish, a magical romantic wonderland, then here it is in prose and spades.
"Oh my dear friend, would you like to know why genius so rarely breaks its bonds, why it so seldom bursts upon us like a raging torrent to shatter our astounded souls? My friend, it is because of the sober gentlemen who reside on either side of the river, whose precious little summerhouses, tulip beds, and vegetable gardens would be ruined by it, and who know so well how to build dams and divert all such threatening danger in good time."
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