William Shakespeare

What is love

What is love? 'Tis an emotion so grand it can cause the most hardened of hearts to soften and the most stoic of men to wax poetic. Is it an all-consuming passion, a gentle caress, an enduring bond? To be sure, 'tis all these things and more, and yet, 'tis also something of a mystery. To some, love is a game, a jest, an exercise in the art of flirtation and courtship. To others, 'tis a solemn commitment, a sacred vow, a providence that no man can break. 'Tis a force so powerful it can make the most broken of souls whole and the most forlorn of hearts beat with hope anew. Ah, love. 'Tis a double-edged sword, a joyous blessing and a sorrowful curse. 'Tis a source of endless delight and endless sorrow. 'Tis a source of strength and yet a source of weakness. 'Tis a source of life and yet a source of death. 'Tis a source of hope and yet a source of despair. In the end, I suppose only one thing can be said with certainty: love is a many-splendored thing, and its true nature is a mystery.