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Whether you’re being taken on a super romantic Valentine’s Day date or you’re single this year, you have to admit—isn’t there just something about Valentine’s Day that gives you a bunch of warm fuzzies inside?

Okay, so not everybody is a fan of candy hearts, teddy bears or ostentatious shows of affection, but let’s get back to the real meaning behind V-Day: pure, heartfelt romance.

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--- and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

O, hurry, where by water, among the trees, The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh, When they have looked upon their images Would none had ever loved but you and I!

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I: And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry: Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun: I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee well, my only Luve And fare thee well, a while! I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

In 1812, Ludwig van Beethoven wrote a series of letters to a mysterious person he called “Unsterbliche Geliebte,” or, “Immortal Beloved.” While it is a letter, its lyricism, particularly in the final lines, make it almost like poetry.

You’ll be just as charmed as Carrie Bradshaw in the Good morning, on July 7 Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us - I can live only wholly with you or not at all - Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I am really at home with you, and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits - Yes, unhappily it must be so - You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to 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.But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine.I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

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