This is a development of Skakespeare’s 18th sonnet which the Bard (or “Swan of Avon”, as some used to call him) might well have enjoyed—or be enjoying from some celestial sphere.
The unreality of love, or rather, the impossibility of defining it, is a thing no lover would agree to when they are caught in its snares—the living of it is all.
This is a development of Skakespeare’s 18th sonnet which the Bard (or “Swan of Avon”, as some used to call him) might well have enjoyed—or be enjoying from some celestial sphere.
The unreality of love, or rather, the impossibility of defining it, is a thing no lover would agree to when they are caught in its snares—the living of it is all.