“How can I describe how much I love you?Is it even possible to describe a love like that? I don’t know, but as Isit here with pen in hand, I know that I have to try.”

“Trying to describe what I do in prayer would be like telling the world how I make love to my wife. ”

“It’s killing me, baby,” he says, his voice much more calm and quiet. “It’s killing me because I don’t want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you. And I’m not ready to tell you I’m in love with you, because I’m not. Not yet. But whatever this is I’m feeling—it’s so much more than just like. It’s so much more. And for the past few weeks I’ve been trying to figure it out. I’ve been trying to figure out why there isn’t some other word to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn’t a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe this point between liking you and loving you, but I need that word. I need it because I need you to hear me say it.”

“How can I possibly describe what I feel for you, Brennus?” I ask, shaking my head and feeling the painful ache inside of me. “This isn’t like the love I have felt before. Whatever it is, it’s painful. If this is love, then I love you the way creatures like us ought to be loved – secretly and unwillingly, within the dark shadow between my heart and soul.”

“Love can't begin to describe how I feel about you.”

“You don’t know how I feel about you? I try to show you how much I care about you every day. How can you not see that?”