I don't really believe in love at first sight. Contractual negotiations, philosophical debates, Rorschach tests and blood tests would have to initiate any relationship, I think.
But I do believe in words at first sight. An initial viewing means nothing to me, but I do believe that when a word or phrase jumps to your mind's attention, unpolluted by reason or grammar, it is inevitably the correct one.
A case in point – this morning I walked by a bleached lemon duplex, which was girded all around with a mass of vertical whitewashed iron rods. The shrubs of the front yard were pushed against these rods, the leaves and branches forced between them. My first impression was that they were like the arms of prisoners, pressed through the prison bars – hopelessly beseeching a favor of the warden walking his rounds. That would be me, by the way, and I had nothing, unfortunately, to offer them.
I liked that unadultrated thought. In fact, I was rather in love with it.