Was not this love indeed?

So many of Shakespeare's wonderful expressions center around love, and I think that's because love is something that every poet, writer, and regular human being is trying to understand. One such phrase that I came across was when Viola was describing her love for Orsino, though under the guise that she was describing a friend's love. Says Viola, "She sat like Patience on a monument/smiling at grief/Was not this love indeed?" (Twelfth Night, 2.4.127). Some might argue that no, this isn't love. Smiling at grief? Being happy despite experiencing unrequited love? That's not real love. But I stand by Shakespeare on this and say that yes, this is in fact real love. Viola's words describe the fact that yes, she is grieving at the fact that her love is unreturned, but she is happy that she even gets the chance to love. Perhaps Shakespeare is trying to teach us that real love does not require anything in return. Real love gives everything it's got, and if it goes unanswered, real love mourns, but it is grateful to have been able to love anyways. As a result, it hurts when loved ones leave our lives - whether by choice or death - because we have so much love to give, but it has nowhere to go. 

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