Love Quote by Dawn Powell

Domestic bliss, written in the key of almost-but-not-quite. Dawn Powell gives you the kind of sentence people jot down when they want the record to show they were happy: names lined up like dolls (Joe and Jojo and I), a soft-focus adjective (lovely), then the overt insistence (I love Joe so much) and the anxious escalation (more and more). It reads less like a description than a self-administered reassurance.

Powell, a novelist with a satirist's ear for how Americans narrate their own lives, knows that intimacy often arrives pre-packaged as a report. The grammar is telling: "had lovely day" skips the article, flattening the moment into a generic unit of happiness, like a postcard you could mail to anyone. "Together" lands like a credential. The dash before "more and more" is where the real action is: a quick pivot from statement to intensifier, as if the first claim couldn't stand on its own without being pumped up.

"Joe and Jojo" also matters. The paired names make a mini-chorus: one adult relationship shadowed by a smaller, cuter echo, suggesting family theater, a triad that looks wholesome on paper. Powell's intent feels double: to capture a warm day and to perform that warmth, to pin affection down before it slips. The subtext isn't that love is present; it's that love needs repeating, maybe to convince the page, maybe to convince the writer.