Shakespearean Love: A Sweet and Bitter Mystery
A fair and fickle thing, as sweet as honeyed wine and yet as bitter as gall.
Its very essence is a mystery, and its workings are a wonder to behold.
The heart that loves is like a ship upon the sea, tossed to and fro by every wind and tide. It is a flame that burns bright and hot, consuming all in its path.
Yet, in its gentle moments, it is a balm to the soul, a salve to all our wounds.
Love, thou art a paradox, a riddle that cannot be solved, a tale that cannot be told.
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