Shakespeare, Sonnet 116:
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 wand'ring 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 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.
OutKast, "Hey Ya":
If what they say is “Nothing is forever”
Then what makes, then what makes, then what makes
Then what makes, what makes,
what makes love the exception?
So why oh, why oh,
why oh, why oh, why oh
Are we so in denial when we know we’re not happy here?


