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ROMANCE c.1300, "story of a hero's adventures," also (early 14c.), "vernacular language of France" (as opposed to Latin), from O.Fr. romanz "verse narrative," originally an adverb, "in the vernacular language," from V.L. *romanice scribere "to write in a Romance language" (one developed from Latin instead of Frankish), from L. Romanicus "of or in the Roman style," from Romanus "Roman" (see Roman). The connecting notion is that medieval vernacular tales were usually about chivalric adventure. Literary sense extended by 1660s to "a love story." Extended 1610s to other modern languages derived from Latin (Spanish, Italian, etc.). Meaning "adventurous quality" first recorded 1801; that of "love affair, idealistic quality" is from 1916. The verb meaning "court as a lover" is from 1942.
I shall repeat: it didn't mean love affair until 1916.
Isn't it strange to think that, in a way, the concepts you're taught to build your world on didn't even exist a hundred, a thousand years ago? "Romance" was a heroic story. Love existed outside of marriage, not in it. Once, we thought that the earth was flat, or that atoms were formed like plum puddings. Doubtless in a hundred years, we will think, once, we thought that atoms were clouds of electrons revolving around a nucleus. We are not timeless; we are temporal. There is - I believe there is - the eternal in us, some being or presence, and yet. We don't know what time is, but we are so strongly grown from this one. I don't quite know how to articulate it but it's strange. It's eerie. Like living inside Einstein's dreams. How much of you is made of your time?
I shall repeat: it didn't mean love affair until 1916.
Isn't it strange to think that, in a way, the concepts you're taught to build your world on didn't even exist a hundred, a thousand years ago? "Romance" was a heroic story. Love existed outside of marriage, not in it. Once, we thought that the earth was flat, or that atoms were formed like plum puddings. Doubtless in a hundred years, we will think, once, we thought that atoms were clouds of electrons revolving around a nucleus. We are not timeless; we are temporal. There is - I believe there is - the eternal in us, some being or presence, and yet. We don't know what time is, but we are so strongly grown from this one. I don't quite know how to articulate it but it's strange. It's eerie. Like living inside Einstein's dreams. How much of you is made of your time?
