Quotes About Scotland

It's double Dutch," declared the man in the check cap. " That's what it is." " Sounds like Danish to me," said the man in evening dress. " He looks like a Dane, too." " He's a Scot," I said, laughing. " So am I. He's offering me a lift home to Scotland, and I'd give my ears to take him at his word.

I'm definitely looking forward to DJing in Scotland again. There's always fun and a great party vibe.

Who could think that children from the pockets of Himalaya sing folklore from Scotland and vice versa? Such an education in the initial years develops compassion and mutual respect for each other's skills.

Clearly, if it is sensible to hold a referendum on independence, it is crucial that we have one on marriage. It is the only way the country can move forward on this issue. Let all those who have a view on this subject place their trust in the Scottish people and let Scotland decide.

No, I don't think I've ever really favoured English independence. My view is that if the Scots want to be independent then we should aim for the same thing.

A good friend of mine feels the same way about Italy and another adores a certain island in the Caribbean. For me it will always be Scotland - Galloway in particular. the musical lilt of a Lowland accent never fails to boost my spirits. I'm simply deliriously happy there.

If aw his hums and haws were hams and haggises, the country wad be weel fed!

I know there's some kind of history to mountain music-like it came from Ireland or England or Scotland and we kept up the tradition.

The ground hosted an international between England and Scotland in April 1926, which the Scots won 1-0 in front of a crowd of forty-nine thousand.

Excuse me? You're a lady? I bought a title on the Internet. I own one square inch of Scotland. And you're changing the subject.

A tall, straight-bodied, and by no means ill-favored young Highlander at close range is breath-taking.

He leaned close, rubbing his bearded cheek against my ear. 'And how about a sweet kiss, now, for the brave lads of the clan MacKenzie? Tulach Ard!' Erin go bragh,' I said rudely, and pushed with all my strength.

I am thinking that you're verra beautiful, Sassenach, he said softly. Maybe if one has a taste for gooseflesh on a large scale, I said tartly, stepping out of the tub and reaching for the cup. He grinned suddenly at me, teeth flashing white in the dimness of the cellar. Oh, aye, he said. Well, you're speaking to the only man in Scotland who has a terrible cockstand at sight of a plucked chicken.

Alright, all right, I said. What if I tell you a story, instead? Highlanders loved stories, and Jamie was no exception. Oh, aye, he said, sounding much happier. What sort of story is it?

Within an hour, I had gone from anguish at the thought of losing him in Scotland, to a strong desire to bed him in the herbaceous borders, and from that to a pronounced urge to hit him on the head with an oar. Now I was back to tenderness.

Fat-heided creatures, the Carmichaels, she said judiciously. Loyal enough, but stubborn as rocks. Thus sayeth a Fraser, I remarked. The Carmichaels must be something special in that line.

He hadn't worn the kilt since Culloden, but his body had not forgotten the way of it.

My first coherent thought was, "It's raining. This must be Scotland.

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 the first time I saw ye, and you've held my soul and body between your hands here and kept them safe. We shall go as ye say.

And so he began haltingly to speak—in Gaelic, as it was the only tongue that didn't seem to require any effort. He understood that he was to speak of what filled his heart, and so began with Scotland—and Culloden. Of grief. Of loss. Of fear.

We're going home, Sassenach. To Lallybroch.

A peaceful refuge in which to rediscover each other, we thought,, not realizing that, while golf and fishing are Scotland's most popular outdoor sports, gossip is the most popular indoor sport.

As Grey put his hand on the pommel, he heard a low Scots voice murmur in his ear: "Queen's rook to king eight. Check." Grey laughed out loud, a burst of exhilaration pushing aside his disquiet. "Ha," he said, though without raising his voice. "Queen's bishop to knight four. Check. And mate, Mr Ã¢â'¬Â¦ MacKenzie.

James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser.