" 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 wandring bark,   Whose worths unknown, although his height be taken.   Loves 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 provd,   I never writ, nor no man ever lovd. " Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare. ForewordPoster credit: Ψ ȿɩᴎ ȿτυɒɩɵƨ Ψ