Sonnet 116

"If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved."

If love is not forever enduring as I describe it- that will be such a painful truth, and I will have fallen so far short of describing truth in my capacity as a writer, that I erase myself and my works from the record. I deny my own livelihood, I self-expunge. I hold love as the highest and purest part of being human, and if it is inconstant, then all of human experience and history has likewise been a waste, and is effectively annulled.