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 stars to every wandering bark,
whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken
love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
sawithin his bending sickle's compass come;
love alters not with his brief hours 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