There are things in our lives that we've known and martyred to the necessity of living. Dust strewn, dimly lit figures flutter though our consciousness, and then we are by chance reminded of our former selves and all that revelatory light burns through our cobweb shroud.
Most people like to quote the first part of Sonnet 29, but I love the end.
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
To put in the modern vulgar parlance… all I need is you, babe, and the rest of the world can go fuck itself.
I may have to sing this to Bette tonight. Or at least recite it.