The Atlantic’s Jeffrey Goldberg writes in purple-mountains-prose about falling, hard, for America, consequences be damned:
I didn’t want it to happen, of course. No one does. When you take the marriage vows, you take them for life, right? So at first, I suppressed those unwanted feelings. Sure, I noticed her purple mountain majesties as soon as she walked in the room. I mean, who didn’t? Believe me, in a sweater, those purple mountains sure were majestic. And her amber waves of grain? I couldn’t pry my eyes away. So lush and, well, ambery. What was I to do? Maybe it’s because my defenses were down—I was working so hard at the time—that my mind soon wandered to her fruited plains. Bad, bad thoughts! But I just couldn’t help myself . . .
For some people, love of country is all-consuming.