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Older jazz love songs are wonderfully romantic. I love jazz of course, but I still don't feel I have a bias making that claim—even if jazz isn't your or your somebody's "thing", just try learning the words to one and singing it to them ... and watch them melt. (I know it's worked on me, anyway.)
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The word "time" split its husk; poured its riches over him; and from his lips fell like shells, like shavings from a plane, without his making them, hard, white, imperishable words, and flew to attach themselves to their places in an ode to Time; an immortal ode to Time.
—Virginia Woolf, Mrs Dalloway
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