Quotes from Dorothy Dunnett

Mother of God, Francis Crawford of Lymond, you've made a slut of your art, have you not, as well as a whore of yourself?

He had been as careful as he knew how to be, but it had not been enough because he too had been hurt, by a loss he could afford less than Richard.

She's got sense, that girl; and too much backbone to push herself where she's not wanted. Tell her it's no good, and she'll soon see the point.

On the day that his grannie was killed by the English, Sir William Scott the Younger of Buccleuch was at Melrose Abbey, marrying his aunt.

Nouvelle amour, nouvelle affection; nouvelles fleurs parmi l'herbe nouvelle. Tell Richard his bride has yet to meet her brother-in-law, her Sea-Catte, her Sea-Scorpion, beautiful in the breeding season.

Then the righteous will shine like the sun and run about like sparks among reeds and all of you, I trust, will cease troubling me.

I told a lie. You must forgive me. I broke an oath, letting him perish. Should I have chosen him to survive, knowing his heritage?

Anxiously, Lymond called. 'If she undresses, I pray you do not restrain her! It can cause untold injury!

Then,' Richard said, 'I think we accept your scheme, with one important change in it. You, too, must be watched and followed.' 'And slept with?' Lymond said.

You don't understand,' she said. In her lap, the loose hands had ground together: between the fair brows a single line showed, of anger and disgust and a kind of futile perplexity. 'You don't understand: how can you? You were born into a household, with parents and wealth; you knew your friends and your enemies; you knew your position in life; whom you were fighting for: whom you were against. I am alone. Every man is my enemy.

And, long since ashore with his men and his booty, Crawford of Lymond, man of wit and crooked felicities, bred to luxury and heir to a fortune, rode off serenely to Midculter to break into his new sister-in-law's castle.

He is beautiful, and whole, and has learned to offer the world a humble and desperate obedience. You called him a pawn. He has begun to follow his trade.

Unlike Kate, this girl had broken from her setting. All that Kate was, she now had. And standing on Kate's shoulders, something more, still growing; blossoming and yet to fruit. All that he was not.

There is little you cannot already guess. You know now what you want. You are about to learn how to give. But the hardest lesson of all is accepting. Am I not right?

So who would do all this?' 'I should,' Richard said. 'Even to sleeping in your own chamber.' 'That I baulk at,' Lymond said. 'The rest you can have. One cock per pen is enough.

Jerott stared up through his headache. 'I can manage,' he said. 'Yes. I think you'll manage better tied to your horse,' said Lymond.

The pain beating in his brows was beyond belief. He wanted only to go while he was still master of himself; before this primitive desire to devastate them both should overpower him.

If I had killed you, none of this would have happened.' 'I thought you would realize it sooner or later,' Lymond said.

I am thinning you down for the Primrose ,' said Lymond, still reading. 'Have we missed a meal?' 'We have missed two meals,' said Danny Hislop with precision. 'And God knows how many drinks. I haven't been working at all well. Hislops need lubrication.

He had ridden through the night, without rest and without sleep, for this. It ought, surely, to give someone a moment of wry amusement. He understood—but then he had always understood—how Richard had felt at Philorth.

I wonder if there exists any other man, even at this Court, who has to be restrained day and night to preserve a girl's honour?

Lymond said, 'You were too intent on your own slaughter; too ruthless; too greedy. You have pushed me until I have no alternatives left. You must take the consequences of that.

You are not coming.' 'But——' said Christopher. 'You heard your father,' said Killingworth. 'You can't hold enough liquor.' 'Can you?' said Christopher, goaded. 'No,' said George Killingworth, after a moment's reflection. 'But who else is going to help us to bed?

Evil matters. So does love. So does pity. My pilgrim," said the Dame de Doubtance gently, "you have still three bitter lessons to learn.