Quotes from Diana Gabaldon

We are bound, you and I, and nothing on this earth shall part me from you.

Why, what's the matter wi' the poor child? she demanded of Jamie. Has she had an accident o' some sort? No, it's only she's married me, he said, though if ye care to call it an accident, ye may.

I meant it, Claire,' he said quietly. 'My life is yours. And it's yours to decide what we shall do, where we go next. To France, to Italy, even back to Scotland. My heart has been yours since first I saw ye, and you've held my soul and body between your two hands here, and kept them safe. We shall go as ye say.

Damn right I begrudge! I grudge every memory of yours that doesna hold me, and every tear ye've shed for another, and every second you've spent in another man's bed!

Aye, well, he'll be wed a long time, he said callously. Do him no harm to keep his breeches on for one night. And they do say that abstinence makes the heart grow firmer, no? Absence, I said, dodging the spoon for a moment. AND fonder. If anything's growing firmer from abstinence, it wouldn't be his heart.

You dinna need to understand me, Sassenach, he said quietly. So long as you love me.

Not for the first time, I reflected that intimacy and romance are not synonymous.

When the day shall come, that we do part, he said softly, and turned to look at me, if my last words are not 'I love you'—ye'll ken it was because I didna have time.

For so many years, for so long, I have been so many things, so many different men. But here, he said, so softly I could barely hear him, here in the dark, with you… I have no name.

I dinna know what's a sadist. And if I forgive you for this afternoon, I reckon you'll forgive me, too, as soon as ye can sit down again. As for my pleasure... His lip twitched. I said I would have to punish you. I did not say I wasna going to enjoy it. He crooked a finger at me. Come here.

This is our time. Until that time stops - for one of us, for both – it is our time. Now. Will you waste it, because you are afraid?

I want to hold you hard to me and kiss you, and never let you go. I want to take you to my bed and use you like a whore, 'til I forget that I exist. And I want to put my head in your lap and weep like a child. The mouth turned up at one corner, and a blue eye opened slitwise. Unfortunately, he said, I can't do any but the last of those without fainting or being sick again.

If I die, he whispered in the dark, dinna follow me. The bairns will need ye. Stay for them. I can wait.

And when my body shall cease, my soul will still be yours, Claire? I swear by my hope of heaven, I will not be parted from you. The wind stirred the leaves of the chestnut trees nearby, and the scents of late summer rose up rich around us; pine and grass and strawberries, sun-warmed stone and cool water, and the sharp, musky smell of his body next to mine. Nothing is lost, Sassenach; only changed. That's the first law of thermodynamics, I said, wiping my nose. No, he said. That's faith.

An Englishman thinks a hundred miles is a long way; and American thinks a hundred years is a long time

but Sassenach—I am the true home of your heart, and I know that." He lifted my hands to his mouth and kissed my upturned palms, one and then the other, his breath warm and his beard-stubble soft on my fingers. "I have loved others, and I do love many, Sassenach—but you alone hold all my heart, whole in your hands," he said softly. "And you know that.

Character, I think, is the single most important thing in fiction. You might read a book once for its interesting plot—but not twice.

The most irritating thing about cliches, I decided, was how frequently they were true.

All right you bloody Scottish bastard, lets see how stubborn you really are.

Mo Nighean donn, he whispered, mo chridhe. My brown lass, my heart. Come to me. Cover me. Shelter me. a bhean, heal me. Burn with me, as I burn for you.

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.

Then kiss me, Claire, he whispered, And know that you are more to me than life, and I have no regret.

No wonder he was so good with horses, I thought blearily, feeling his fingers rubbing gently behind my ears, listening to the soothing, incomprehensible speech. If I were a horse, I'd let him ride me anywhere.

All I want, is for you to love me. Not because of what I can do or what I look like, or because I love you - just because I am.