Because apparently sometimes what I say is quotable in the eyes of others. Add as it strikes your fancy.
Really, I am simply sick of people acting as if the chief romantic arc in that story has anything to do with what real, lasting love looks like to anyone but
a pair of angst-ridden hormonal teenagers (or those who are such at heart). There is no intimacy or reflection, only passion. That is infatuation, not true love. Could it become true love? Surely. But speaking as someone in love... that is not it. Not at all. And given Shakespeare's understanding of the intricacies of love and lust as seen throughout his work, I believe that he recognised the same.
Then, this it-thingy, it is my sibling in song! O, glory of tentacled glories!
, who used this as its signature.