And it Burns, Burns, Burns

"Words are never 'only words'; they matter because they define the contours of what we can do."
-Slavoj Zizek

Tonight (or rather this morning) in a brownie-driven frenzy, I looked up the definitions of "love" and "hate." They were completely and totally inadequate. In fact, never once in my life have I heard a good, solid, comprehensive definition of either. Sure, people spout off aphorisms such as "Love means never having to say you're sorry" or some other bullshit, but there are no real definitions. People merely accept love and hate as such abstract, untouchable absolutes. The possible spectrum of love is too broad, so as to cover all manner of sins. The matter is complicated with the addition of prepositions; "I love you, but I'm not in love with you."

These tiny little words contain a universe of meaning. And for goodness sakes, it's just damned confusing. The Greeks had different words for friendly love (φιλία) and romantic love (έρως), and even "true" love (αγάπη). English really should take advantage of these very important distinctions. Also lacking, in just about every language that I know (which is nothing to sneer at) is a word that describes exactly how Catullus feels:

odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.

I hate and I love. Why do I do this, perhaps you ask?
I know not, but I feel it happening and I am tortured.

And with this elegiac couplet, we can understand every single Johnny Cash song a bit better.