Oh, to be Jane Austen

It's true, Jane and Shakespeare were not contemporaries...not even by a long shot. The two are inextricably connected in my mind, though, and after watching Becoming Jane yesterday, I am rewatching every screen adaptation of her work. Sense and Sensibility today. Sonnet 116. Sigh.

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. Seriously, I was so born in the wrong century. And on the wrong continent.