Quotes from Diana Gabaldon

followed obediently in her shimmering

into view, trundling slowly under

It was like being caught in a meat grinder; a brief moment of total chaos, punctuated by random hard blows to the body and the sensation of being suffocated in a large, reeking hairy blanket.

I thought he'd have an apoplexy on the spot," Grey said, lips twitching. "Likely wishes he had." Grey looked at Tom, Tom at Grey, and they burst into suffocated snorts of laughter at the memory of the Honorable Mr. Braythwaite's face on this occasion. "Come, come," Lord John said, getting himself under control. "This will never do. Have you—

Then he fell, badly, tumbling over rocks into a small hollow, bruising himself and knocking out all his wind. The fog had billowed over him, marching past, urgent in its hurry to engulf things, as he lay stunned and breathless in the bottom of his small declivity. Then he began to hear the rocks murmur all around him, and he'd crawled, then run, as fast as he could, screaming. Fell again, got up and went on running.

Nay, he needs a woman, not a girl. And Laoghaire will be a girl when she's fifty.

And while I would, if pushed, deny absolutely that it was my fault, it was undeniably on my account.

My Son-in-law astutely observes that a Man's sense of Morality tends to decrease as his Power increases

I swear to thee, friend, and may God Almighty bear me witness. For the sake of your love to me, never shall those that are yours go wanting, while I have aught to give.

Going into his master's house to ravish his daughter's maidenhood—at her request? He had never heard of a less sensible prospect.

Well, that's of no consequence just now. But he did not tell you—that is—has he not told you about Willie?" I stared at him blankly. "Who's Willie?" Instead of explaining, he bent and opened the drawer of his desk. He pulled out a small object and laid it on the desk, motioning me to come closer.

that a Man's sense of Morality tends to decrease as his Power increases

And below, the notebook filled with fine cursive script, laying out in strict order conclusion and delusion, mingling myth and science, drawing from learned men and legends, all of it based on the power of dreams. To any casual observer, it could be either a muddle of half-thought-out nonsense or, at best, the outline for a clever-silly novel. Only to me did it have the look of a careful, deliberate plan. In

Warmth crept over him, and sleep tiptoed in its wake, drawing a blanket of drowsiness up round his ears, unlocking the tidy cupboards of his mind and letting all the thoughts and impressions of the day spill out in brightly colored heaps.

It was no random choice that invoked his name to cure me. Whether it was health of mind or body, the love of him was necessary to me as breath or blood. My mind reached out for him, sleeping or waking, and finding him, was satisfied. My body and glowed, and as it came to full life, hungered for his.

shades of brown and gold, and if I did say so myself, it fit me like a glove.

Luceo non uro; I shine, not burn.

fides," I said, amused. It had taken

Ah? Oh, it means honeylips, all right. More or less." "But—" "It's no your mouth he was referring to, Sassenach," Jamie said dryly.

hair—very thick, with a slight wave to it, and all the colors of red and gold mixed; copper and cinnamon, auburn and amber, red and roan and rufous, all mingled together.

Que todo el mundo se calle —ordenó con firmeza—. Voy a leer.

Lavender and rosemary should be cut in the morning, though, when the volatile oils had risen with the sun; it wasn't as potent if taken later in the day.

Can I help you?" She was middle height and very pretty. He had an overall impression of fine bones and white linen, topped with a wealth of curly brown hair in a sort of half-tamed chignon. And in the middle of it all, the most extraordinary pair of light eyes, just the color of well-aged sherry.

I came back to to the still-warm bed, holding in my mind the picture of the laird of Lallybroch, half-naked in the moonlight, pouring out his heart to an unknown future, holding in his lap the promise of his blood.