Quotes from Diana Gabaldon

But what I would ask of ye- when you do tell me something, let it be the truth. And I'll promise ye the same. WE have nothing now between us, save- respect, perhaps. And I think that respect has maybe room for secrets, but not for lies.

What, she's taken the hairs off her honeypot?" he said, horrified into uncharacteristic vulgarity.

if ye bed wi' a vixen, ye must expect to get bit.

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.

You tell me exactly what happened, ye filthy wee pervert," Fraser whispered, his breath hot on Grey's face and smelling of ale. He shook Grey slightly. "Every word. Every motion. Everything." Grey got just enough breath to answer. "No," he said defiantly. "Go ahead and kill me.

Hodie mihi cras tibi. Sic transit gloria mundi.

You know historians - can't leave a puzzle alone

Catholics don't believe in divorce," Bree had informed him once. "We do believe in murder. There's always Confession, after all.

He hadn't worn the kilt since Culloden, but his body had not forgotten the way of it.

When you kissed me like that well maybe you weren't so sorry to be marrying me after all.

No, my Sassenach, he said softly. Open your eyes. Look at me. For that is your punishment, as it is mine. See what you have done to me, as I have done to you. Look at me.

When I'd lost him the first time, before Culloden, I'd remembered. Every moment of our last night together. Tiny things would come back to me through the years: the taste of salt on his temple and the curve of his skull as I cupped his head; the soft fine hair at the base of his neck, thick and damp in my fingers Ã¢â'¬Â¦ the sudden, magical well of his blood in dawning light when I'd cut his hand and marked him forever as my own. Those things had kept him by me.

The woman crosses the room, and it is only when she is directly in front of us that I am certain about who she is. She is dressed in a pelisse fashionable among women half her age, and the feather in her hat is an extraordinary shade of blue. Outside, a young man is waiting at her coach. Passersby will suspect that he is her son, but anyone who has ever been acquainted with her will know better.

I have lived through war, and lost much. I know what's worth the fight, and what is not. Honor and courage are matters of the bone, and what a man will kill for, he will sometimes die for, too. And that, O kinsman, is why a woman has broad hips; that bony basin will harbor a man and his child alike. A man's life springs from his woman's bones, and in her blood is his honor christened. For the sake of love alone, would I walk through fire again.

I want to protect ye, Sassenach-spread myself over ye like a cloak and shield you and the child wi' my body.... I would do anything for ye...and yet...there's nothing I can do. It doesna matter how strong I am, or how willing; I canna go with you where ye must go...not even help ye at all. And to think of the things that might happen, and me helpless to stop them...aye, I'm afraid, Sassenach.

And sometimes, I whispered to him, I wish it could be you inside me. That I could take you into me and keep you safe always. His hand, large and warm, lifted slowly from the bed and cupped the small round swell of my belly, sheltering and caressing. You do, my own, he said. You do.

My God, he thought, I'm going to die before I've been born.

For a moment, I saw him as he had looked the morning I married him. Duine uasal was what he looked, a man of worth. But the bold face above the lace was the same, older now, but wiser with it—yet the tilt of his shining head and the set of the wide, firm mouth, the slanted clear cat-eyes that looked into my own, were just the same. Here was a man who had always known his worth.

I was dead, my Sassenach – and yet all that time, I loved you.

We will marry each other.

It was in a way a comforting idea; if there was all the time in the world, then the happenings of a given moment became less important. I could see, perhaps, how one could draw back a little, seek some respite in the contemplation of an endless Being, whatever one conceived its nature to be.

Go to bed, Tom, he managed to say. Don't wake me in the morning. I plan to be dead.

If God makes man in His image, we all return the favor.

You are my courage, as I am your Conscience, he whispered. You are my hear and I your compassion. We are neither of us whole, alone.