loved

The editors, writers, and cartoonists at Charlie Hebdo were human beings with families, friends, and loved ones.

So in that sense we have gotten close to the families that have lost loved ones, be it from one side or the other.

He knew I loved him like a big brother, and I knew the feeling was mutual.

Dozens of tearful family members huddled at the Surabaya and Singapore airports, anxiously awaiting news of loved ones.

So, we go to the urinals and he leans over to me and whispers, “I loved Gattaca.”

I was an Innkeeper, who loved to carouse; J was a Joiner, and built up a house.

And she fell to scolding him in the way he usually loved,—but at the moment found less stimulating for some reason.

In both cases the decision was made at a feast, and in favour of the one who “loved much.”

To know, to love, and to be loved by such a man as Burne-Jones was a supreme blessing in his life.

She was thrusting herself upon Lord Hartledon, knowing that in his true heart it was another that he loved, not her.