Quotes About Emotions

remembering so acutely Jamie's flesh and weight and ardor, and so urgently wanted him to be Jamie that I had succeeded for an instant in thinking that he was, only to be crushed like a grape at the realization that he wasn't, all my soft insides spurting out. Had he felt or thought the same things, waking to find me there beside him?

He realized suddenly that every fragment of Fraser's being was focused on the scene outside. Of course; he had not seen Willie since the boy was twelve. And to see the two together—his daughter and the son he could never speak to or acknowledge. He would have touched Fraser, put a hand on his arm in sympathy, but knowing the probable effect of his touch, forbore to do it.

It's no just the bedding, ye ken," he said, drawing back a little at last. His eyes looked down at me, a soft deep blue like the warm tropic sea. "No," I said, touching his cheek. "It isn't." "To have ye with me again—to talk wi' you—to know I can say anything, not guard my words or hide my thoughts—

There must have been some sound that made me look up, but I wasn't aware of having raised my head. John Grey was standing in the doorway of my room. His neckcloth was missing and his shirt hung limp on his shoulders, wine spilled down the front of it. His hair was loose and tangled, and his eyes as red as mine. I stood up, slow, as though I were underwater. "I will not mourn him alone tonight," he said roughly, and closed the door.

and she supposed that it was perhaps not fair to quarrel with someone on the basis of what you thought they were thinking.

Is it wrong, Hector? he thought. That I should love a man who might have killed you?

I wept for him while he was still alive to know it

I thought of it, yes," he said finally. He let his head fall back on the pillow, eyes fixed on the low beamed ceiling. "Still, if I was human enough—or petty enough—to consider that I might offend you by bringing William here, I would ask you to believe that such offense was not my motive in coming.

He stood for a second, polite, remote. Then the mask dropped away. "I liked you, too," he said quietly. "Then.

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

The door opened again a few minutes later, and Jamie emerged, no more than six feet away. His mask of cool reserve was in place, but I knew him well enough to see the marks of a strong emotion under it. But while I could see it, I couldn't interpret it. Excitement? Apprehension? Fear and joy mingled? Something else? I had simply never seen him look that way before.

between amusement and concern. I poked him unobtrusively, and

I Ã¢â'¬Â¦ just came." The need to find out as much as I could made me add the little else I knew. "I think—I think it has something to do with being able to fix your mind on a certain person who's in the time you go to." Her

He had them often, in varying forms, and it always unsettled him the day after, as though for a moment Claire had really been near enough to touch, and then had drawn away again.

But mad passion wasn't a necessary prerequisite for tenderness or consideration, was it?

Her entrance was greeted by a general outcry of cordiality that made her mildly ashamed of her cynicism.

His own words brought back to him the letters he had written now and then. The phantoms, as he thought of them: letters he'd written to Jamie Fraser—honest, conversational, heartfelt, and very real. No less real because he'd burned them all.

I was older, heavier, and completely berserk.

And I—so proud of self-sufficiency at one time—could not bear the thought of loneliness again.

You call her 'Dame Blanche,' " Jamie said, between his teeth. "I call her wife! Let her face be the last that ye see, then!

in her voice that

You didn't know that Jamie was married?" He blinked, but not in time to keep me from seeing a small grimace of pain, as though someone had struck him suddenly across the face.

Perhaps you are too young to know the power of hate and despair. Quarry's voice spoke in Grey's memory. He was not; he recognized them at once in the depths of Fraser's eyes.

It wasn't stubbornness, nor even loyalty, that had made Willie insist on staying at the Ridge. It was love of John Grey, and fear of his loss. And it was the same love that made the boy weep in the night, desperate with worry for his father.