Naturally we found our selves walking the ancient literary pilgrimage to Shakespeare’s home.
Humbly in awe of the history we were experiencing.
Loving the aged details.
Enjoying alighted interest ~ deepening enjoyment ~ growing understanding of this worlds great story teller.
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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-fixèd mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Sonnet 116 ~ William Shakespeare
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