Sonnet 130 by William Shakespeare

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 damasked, 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.

-- William Shakespeare

If you're never placed on an illusory pedestal, you don't have worry about falling off. You can trust it's the real you and not an imagined one that he likes.

I can't remember when I put this in the planner. Looking at the artifacts around it, I must have been about 19. I had dated a bit but not had a relationship that meant much to me then.