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 wandering bark, Whose worth’s unknown, although
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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was
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Forse non è nemmeno vero quel che a volte ti senti urlare in cuore: che questa vita è, dentro il tuo essere, un nulla e che ciò che chiamavi la luce è un abbaglio, l’abbaglio estremo dei tuoi occhi malati – e che ciò che fingevi la meta è un sogno, il sogno infame della
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Hold my hand at sunset, when the light turns off and the dark slides his cloth of stars… Hold her close when I can’t live this imperfect world… Hold my hand… take me where time does not exist… Hold her tight in hard to live. Hold my hand… on days when I feel confused… sing
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