Diana Gabaldon Quotes

Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone,
I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One.
I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done.

For where all love is, the speaking is unnecessary

I stood still, vision blurring, and in that moment, I heard my heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower's stem.

Oh, aye, Sassenach. I am your master . . . and you're mine. Seems I canna possess your soul without losing my own.

And I mean to hear ye groan like that again. And to moan and sob, even though you dinna wish to, for ye canna help it. I mean to make you sigh as though your heart would break, and scream with the wanting, and at last to cry out in my arms, and I shall know that I've served ye well.

To see the years touch ye gives me joy", he whispered, "for it means that ye live.

It wasn't a thing I had consciously missed, but having it now reminded me of the joy of it; that drowsy intimacy in which a man's body is accessible to you as your own, the strange shapes and textures of it like a sudden extension of your own limbs.

Gentle he would be, denied he would not.

But I talk to you as I talk to my own soul," he said, turning me to face him. He reached up and cupped my cheek, fingers light on my temple.

"And, Sassenach," he whispered, "your face is my heart.

It would ha' been a good deal easier, if ye'd only been a witch.

I want to take ye to bed. In my bed. And I mean to spend the rest of the day thinking
what to do wit ye once I got ye there. So wee Archie can just go and play at marbles
with his bollucks, aye?

No. Ye loved him. I canna hold it against either of you that ye mourn him. And it gives me some comfort to know ..." He hesitated, and I reached up to smooth the rumpled hair off his face.

"To know what?"

"That should the need come, you might mourn for me that way," he said softly.

Intimacy and romance are not synonymous.

Overall, the library held a hushed exultation, as though the cherished volumes were all singing soundlessly within their covers.

A general cry of "What book? What book? Let us see this famous book!

Reading is of course dry work, and further refreshment was called for and consumed.

Its appearance was greeted with cries of rapture, and following a brief struggle over possesion of the volume, William rescued it before it should be torn to pieces, but allowed himself to be induced to read some of the passages aloud, his dramatic rendering being greeted by wolflike howls of enthusiasim and hails of live pits.

I heard you went to Ireland...I haven't seen it in many years. Is it still green then, and beautiful?

Wet as a bath sponge and mud to the knees but, aye, it was green enough.

I thought he said you weren’t drunk if you could find your arse with both hands.”

He eyed me appraisingly. “I hate to tell ye, Sassenach, but it’s not your arse ye’ve got hold of - it’s mine.”

“That’s all right,” I assured him. “We’re married. Share and share alike. One flesh; the priest said so.

...knowing what o'clock it is gives ye the illusion that ye have some control over your circumstances.