Another Word For Loving Novels & Stories

Sighing, I consider it. “L’amore hè più cà un sentimentu, hè ciò chì diventate sottu u putere è a debulezza di l’altru.” I peer at him confused. “You can’t do that. You could be calling all sorts of dirty names, and I wouldn’t have a clue.” His smile widens. “I said. Love is more than a feeling. It’s what you become under the power and weakness of the other.” “Could have said it in English would have saved you saying it twice.” His eyes roll at my words, and I laugh.

"It means self-sacrificing love. You know where it says 'For God so loved the world'?" "Sure. John 3:16." "Well, the Greek word used there is Agape." The smell of coffee broke over me, and Joan laughed as I inhaled deeply. "I need some of that." Rebecca, Matthew and Jonathan all signaled their agreement and we began to follow the smell. Before I did, though, I turned to find Heidi, who was holding hands with Maggie. She and I locked eyes, and she nodded. "Go on, I've got her."

My Neil, so innocent, actually thought that love was expressed in that way. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart, and said softly, “Neil, the love I want isn’t quite like that.” Neil furrowed his brow slightly, a look of genuine confusion on his face as he earnestly asked, “Then what kind of love is it?” I managed a wry smile; this kind of love was so complex that it felt impossible to describe with words. I lifted my hand and gently cupped his face, speaking softly, “It’s a love that cannot be expressed in words and mere action like a kiss.”

It was a three-letter word: “I love you.”

Even when they were present, they existed like we were nothing more than strangers sharing the same space. To be honest, I don’t think they have a true grasp of what the word means either. The first time I heard the word was in a movie when I was six. I remember being confused and turning to my nanny to ask what it meant. She said, “Love is what you feel for someone close to you. It’s wanting the best for that person, sometimes even at the expense of yourself. It’s a deeper form of liking someone.” I frowned. “How do you know when you love someone?”

- To love someone? - No! Talk about it out loud, but I want you to know. I would kill and die for you, Luna. I faced him. - I don't want you to kill anyone and I don't want you to die either. I just want you for me. - I love you! Smile. - I love you more. [...] I woke up hearing voices being whispered, I don't think it was supposed to wake me up, not open my eyes to hear the conversation.

"It's just… I don't know if I love him. I like him just fine, but when it comes to love? I am not so sure." I cracked open the eggs and poured the yolk into a bowl, whisking them before I answered. "Love has different meanings. For some, it's quickened breaths and longing glances across the room. For some, it's passionate and engaging. For some, it's evergreen and forever." I whisked the eggs harder. "For me, it's patient and kind and about all the little things." "Elaborate on that please," Camille murmured. "I am a criminology student. Details are extremely crucial to me."

love you all xoxo

Dio asked suddenly, eyes wide. The table erupted in stifled laughter. Every gaze turned to Hastan, waiting. He cleared his throat, then crouched slightly toward Dio, his voice gentle yet firm. “It’s a grown-up word, Dio. It means showing love in a special way—but only between a husband and wife. Something for when you’re older. Much older.” Dio blinked, considering. “Oh… like when Mama hugs me?” A small smile touched Hastan’s lips. He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Something like that. But this one’s only for people who promise each other forever.”