Diana Gabaldon Quotes

Diana Gabaldon Quotes

Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone, I give ye my Body,
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.

Here I stand on the brink of war again, a citizen of no place, no time, no country but my own . . . and that a land lapped by no sea but blood, bordered only by the outlines of a face long-loved.

For the moment, everything had disappeared: the church, the battle, the screams and shouts and the rumble of limber wheels along the rutted road through Freehold. There wasn't anything but her and him, and he opened his eyes to look on her face, to fix it in his mind forever.

You're beautiful to me, Jamie,” I said softly, at last. “So beautiful, you break my heart.

Ïf ye've ever the privelege of seeing a woman in her skin, gentlemen,"he said, looking over his shoulder toward the door and lowering his voice confidentially, ÿe'll observe that the hair there grows in the shape of an arrow - pointing the way, ye ken, so as a poor ignorant man can find his way safe home.

One dictum I had learned on the battlefields of France in a far distant war: You cannot save the world, but you might save the man in front of you, if you work fast enough.

Soldiers manage by dividing themselves. They're one man in the killing, another at home, and the man that dandles his bairn on his knee has nothing to do wi' the man who crushed his enemy's throat with his boot, so he tells himself, sometimes successfully.

You'd forgive me for Claire - but not for killing your . . . men." He glanced at the two Craddocks, spotty as a pair of raisin puddings and - Grey's look implied - likely no brighter.

I put a hand up to cup his cheek, warm and lightly stubbled. I didn't fool myself that this was paradise or even a refuge from the war - wars tended not to stay in one place but moved around, much in the manner of cyclones and even more destructive where they touched down. But for however long it lasted, this was home, and now was peace.

Brave' covers everything from complete insanity and bloody disregard of other people's lives - generals tend to go in for that sort - to drunkenness, foolhardiness, and outright idiocy - to the sort of thing that will make a man sweat and tremble and throw up . . . and go and do what he thinks he has to do anyway.

You know historians - can't leave a puzzle alone

Time makes very little difference to the basic realities of life

Catholics don't believe in divorce. We do believe in murder. There's always Confession, after all.
-Brianna Fraser to Roger MacKenzie

He wanted to ask whether she were insane, but he had been married long enough to know the price of injudicious rhetorical questions.

I've seen women-and men too, sometimes-as canna bear the sound of their own thoughts, and they maybe dinna make such good matches with those who can.

Ian, man, I didna tell ye because I didna wish to lose you too. My brother was gone, and my father. I didna mean to lose my own heart's blood as well. For you are dearer to me even than home and family, love.'She cast a lopsided smile at Jamie. 'And that's saying quite a bit.

Do you really think we'll ever-"

"I do," he said with certainty, not letting me finish. He leaned over and kissed my forehead. "I know it, Sassenach, and so do you. You were meant to be a mother, and I surely dinna intend to let anyone else father your children.

When you hold a child to your breast to nurse, the curve of the little head echoes exactly the curve of the breast it suckles, as though this new person truly mirrors the flesh from which it sprang.

Your mother said that Fraser sent her back to me, knowing that I would protect her-and you. ... And like him, perhaps I send you back, knowing-as he knew of me-that he will protect you with his life. I love you forever, Brianna. I know whose child you truly are. With all my love, Dad.

No matter how ugly the manner in which a man dies, it’s only the presence of a suffering human soul that is horrifying, once gone, what is left is only an object.

Blood of my Blood," he whispered, "and bone of my bone. You carry me within ye, Claire, and ye canna leave me now, no matter what happens, You are mine, always, if ye will it or no, if ye want me or nay. Mine, and I wilna let ye go.

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