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 wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, altough his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come,
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.
William Shakespeare
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário