Thursday, May 28, 2009, 4:27 PM
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when its alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed markThat 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.