The Lines that are running Through my Head

Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

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,

Which 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 times fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 

Within his bending sickles 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.