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{ Love(extracted) from Shakespeare


Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeksWithin 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 proved,I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

It is the star to every wandering bark,Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

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