Quotes from Diana Gabaldon

If you call it a romance, it will never be reviewed by the 'New York Times' or any other respectable literary venue. And that's okay. I can live with that.

And Finally I put down the last and the best advice I knew, on growing older. 'Stand up straight and try not to get fat.

Some time later, long after 'Voyager' was published, I came across the Dunbonnet in another reference, and it gave an expanded version, and it told me the Dunbonnet's name - which was James Fraser.

Reading 'The Last Days of Magic' is like playing a well-constructed video game.

Roger speaking to Brianna: It's too important. You don't forget having a dad." You do remember your father?" No. I remember yours.

Ningún hombre es dueño de su propia vida", dijo. "Una parte de ti siempre está en manos de otra persona. Todo lo que puedes hacer es esperar que sea principalmente en las manos de Dios en las que estás".

Oh, Claire, ye do break my heart wi' loving you.

Do ye not understand?he said, in near desparation. I would lay the world at your feet, Claire-and I have nothing to give ye! He honestly thought it mattered.

Then let amourous kisses dwell On our lips, begin and tell A Thousand and a Hundred score A Hundred and a Thousand more

A hedgehog? And just how does a hedgehog make love? he demanded. No, I thought. I won't. I will not. But I did. Very carefully, I replied, giggling helplessly. So now we know just how old that one is, I thought.

I was crying for joy, my Sassenach,' he said softly. He reached out slowly and took my face between his hands. And thanking God that I have two hands. That I have two hands to hold you with. To serve you with, to love you with. Thanking God that I am a whole man still, because of you.

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

Lying on the floor, with the carved panels of the ceiling flickering dimly above, I found myself thinking that I had always heretofore assumed that the tendency of eigh­teenth-century ladies to swoon was due to tight stays; now I rather thought it might be due to the idiocy of eighteenth-century men.

Your face is my heart Sassenach, and the love of you is my soul

sitting and waiting is one of the most miserable occupations known to man - not that it usually is known to men; women do it much more often.

I shook so that it was some time before I realized that he was shaking too, and for the same reason. I don't know how long we sat there on the dusty floor, crying in each others arms with the longing of twenty years spilling down our faces.

I do know it, my own. Let me tell ye in your sleep how much I love you. For there's no so much I can be saying to ye while ye wake, but the same poor words, again and again. While ye sleep in my arms, I can say things to ye that would be daft and silly waking, and your dreams will know the truth of them. Go back to sleep, mo duinne.

Sometimes our best action result in things that are most regrettable.

Lord, ye gave me a rare woman, and God! I loved her well.

And if your life is a suitable exchange for my honor, why is my honor not a suitable exchange for your life?

But just then, for that fraction of time, it seems as though all things are possible. You can look across the limitations of your own life, and see that they are really nothing. In that moment when time stops, it is as though you know you could undertake any venture, complete it and come back to yourself, to find the world unchanged, and everything just as you left it a moment before. And it's as though knowing that everything is possible, suddenly nothing is necessary.

It was a beautiful bright autumn day, with air like cider and a sky so blue you could drown in it.

Once you've chosen a man, don't try to change him', I wrote with more confidence. 'It can't be done. More important-don't let him try to change you.

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.