William Shakespeare

what is love

What is love? 'Tis a question that has been asked of yore, and yet remains unanswered. Is it a feeling, a passion, a longing? Or is it something more? Is it a bond between two hearts, a tenderness that never parts? Is it something that can be seen, or something that lies in the unseen? Is love a thing of beauty, or a thing of pain? Does it bring joy, or does it cause strain? Is it a force that drives us, or does it guide us? Can it be controlled, or is it something that's wild and free? Is love something you can find, or something that's just in our minds? Is it a thing that we can share, or something that's only meant to be kept within? Is it something we can give, or something that can only be taken away? Ah, love! A mystery that will never be solved. 'Tis a thing that we can only feel and live, and never really understand. Whether it brings us joy or sorrow, 'tis something that we must accept, and be thankful for. For without it, life would be nothing but a hollow shell.