Don't call yourself romantic unless it's 1820 and you're willing to risk rabies to wrap a bat in a poem (from an 1863 biography of Victor Hugo):

"One day Victor brought his betrothed a paper carefully folded and pinned. She thought it contained some precious flower, and opened it cautiously; while she was opening it, a bat made its escape. She was much alarmed, and only forgave him for causing so disagreeable a surprise when she read the verses written on the paper, called La Chauve-souris."

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