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.
Oh no! it is an ever-fixed mark that looks at temptests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown although its 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 till the end of doom:
If this be error and upon me proved
Then I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
-William Shakespear
May we love with the audacity of a Shakespearian sonnet.
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