(...) 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 height be taken.

Love´s not Time´s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bendings sickle´s compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out ev´n to the edge of doom.

If this be error, upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (1564 - 1616)