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