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We should all be so lucky: “But bears it out even to the edge of doom.”


Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s 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 prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.
— WS

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  • ghostsniper September 6, 2019, 12:31 PM

    Yes, beautiful.
    I almost got wood.

  • Nori September 6, 2019, 8:51 PM

    Pang in the heart.

  • Anonymous September 7, 2019, 4:13 AM

    I agree. Beautiful. But my favorite line from Sonnet 116 is: “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 wandering bark, Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.”

    “Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks . . .”

  • Dr. Jay September 7, 2019, 4:20 AM

    That last comment was from me . . . My fat finger slipped on the enter key. It’s the Ketogenic diet from now on.

  • Annie Rose September 7, 2019, 6:00 PM

    My dad loved my mom like that right up to his final days. He chose to give so completely of himself, knowing that she was physically no longer capable of doing all that she had once done for the two of them, that he wore himself out. He gladly and lovingly took over the shopping, banking, gardening, cooking, dishwashing, and laundry. He would allow no outside help. Exhausted, he caught pneumonia and then one of those damn hospital bugs, passing away quickly two years ago. He wasn’t a perfect man, but his love for my mom was perfect in their final 68 years of marriage. I know he now watches over her from above.