some day we'll all be dead and none of this will matter anyhow

A friend of mine is soon hosting his annual Shakespeare's Sonnet Reading, an evening of highbrow wine-ing and cheese-ing and recitation of what I like to refer to as "the Best-O-Bill." John has asked me to recite this year but I must choose my own sonnet, as he is loathe to assign, being a retired professor and all. When he called, I allowed that sure, I have some favorites. I like the one Kate Winselt reads in Sense and Sensibility to the cad who loves her but dumps her anyway because the other girl offers stability and he is, after all, a coward, #116:

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-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Yeah, I like that one. But I also like #29:

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least:
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee,--and then my state (
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings'.

Love kind of sucks and makes us feel like total unabashed retards sometimes, doesn't it?
That was me, not Bill.