Are there pleasures more sweet, treasures more rich
Than that which poets call love, and lovers call eternity?
If it be so, I shall not attempt to seek it,
And willingly would I stay in the wilderness of thy love.

"Gotta do more. Gotta be more."
Life is too short not to indulge
In the tender ocean known as thy heart,
And the lofty mountain known as thy mind.

Finally, before I go,
Whatever be thy words, mark this well:
May they be sweetened by your profession of self-same love,
Or envenomed by a damnation
thy lustrous lips doth pronounce
In the manner most ill-becomes you,
I shall bear it with the same patience,
Knowing 'twas always Heaven for thine and Hell for mine.

Never mind which way,
I shall again seek you,
In my afterlife.