True Love
              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.

                    By....... William Shakespeare

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