Sonnet 130, depicting true love

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

The woman described in these words brings visions of old washed up hags who could never capture a man's heart, and yet she's loved. This is a love so passionate that it breaks the barriers created by outer beauty.

True love has nothing to do with looks. It's about being able to connect with that one person you know will be in your heart forever.

Of course, we all know that no one pays any attention to this sonnet. Today, we live by false beauty. Today we want long blond hair, seductive blue eyes, Pete Burns lips, fake boobs, tanning till you get skin cancer and a face so tight you look like your in pain no matter how happy, sad or shocked you are. It's disgusting. These women look horrible.

There are times I wish the world was blind.