The words thrilled Val. They had come into his mind sometime during the fresh gold April afternoon and he kept repeating them to himself over and over: «Love in the night; love in the night.»  He tried them in three languages - Russian, French and English - and decided that they were best in English. In each language they meant a different sort of love and a different sort of night - the English night seemed the warmest and softest with a thinnest and most crystalline sprinkling of stars. The English love seemed the most fragile and romantic - a white dress and a dim face above it and eyes that were pools of light. 

Francis Scott Fitzgerald