“Love,” Agathea said, smiling as she glanced at me. My stomach sank, threatening to pull me down with it. “Every guest here will speak a little of love. You may tell a story, or give a speech, revealing what the sentiment means to you. We’ll see how your speech manifests on your plate.” She arched her graceful, swan-like neck. Swans had been beautiful, but cruel creatures, according to the old Earth bestiaries. “Perhaps the youngest and most innocent of us will begin?”
From 'A Symposium in Space'