Let me not to 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! I 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
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not within his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the adge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved
I never rit nor man ever loved.
Поди, выучи до завтра. (шекспир 116 соннет)