Sonnet CXVI

      Let me not to the marriage of true minds
      Admit impediments. Love is not love
      Which alters when it alteration finds,
      Or bends with the remover to remove:
      O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
      That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
      It is the star to every wandering bark,
      Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
      Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
      Within his bending sickle's compass come:
      Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
      But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
      If this be error and upon me proved,
      I never writ, nor no man ever loved.


      William Shakespeare








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