"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." |
From Sonnet 116- William Shakespeare
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