William Shakespeare once wrote: 'Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds. It is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken. Love alters not with time’s brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom.
They do not love that do not show their love.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
I'll follow you and make a heaven out of hell, and I'll die by your hand which I love so well.
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs,
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes,
Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears.
What is it else? A madness most discreet,
A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
Love is a spirit of all compact of fire.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
My bounty is as deep as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.
My heart is ever at your service
One half of me is yours, the other half yours-
Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,
And so all yours!
Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.
When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.
No sooner met but they looked;
No sooner looked but they loved;
No sooner loved but they sighed;
No sooner signed but they asked one another the reason;
No sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy;
And in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage...
Elizabeth Barret : How doth I love thee:
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
They do not love that do not show their love.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
I'll follow you and make a heaven out of hell, and I'll die by your hand which I love so well.
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs,
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes,
Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears.
What is it else? A madness most discreet,
A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
Love is a spirit of all compact of fire.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
My bounty is as deep as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.
My heart is ever at your service
One half of me is yours, the other half yours-
Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,
And so all yours!
Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.
When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.
No sooner met but they looked;
No sooner looked but they loved;
No sooner loved but they sighed;
No sooner signed but they asked one another the reason;
No sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy;
And in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage...
Elizabeth Barret : How doth I love thee:
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
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