Quotes About Love

Oh, womanly sympathy, love AND food? I said, laughing. Don't want a lot, do you?

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 thought he said you weren't drunk if you could find your arse with both hands." He eyed me appraisingly. "I hate to tell ye, Sassenach, but it's not your arse ye've got hold of—it's mine." "That's all right," I assured him. "We're married. Share and share alike. One flesh; the priest said so.

I would." He kissed the top of my head. "I saw Ian's face; it was like his own flesh was being torn, each time Jenny screamed." My arms were around him, stroking the ridged scars on his back. "I can bear pain, myself," he said softly, "but I couldna bear yours. That would take more strength than I have.

This was nonsense, he thought. The need of her was a physical thing, like the thirsty of a sailor becalmed for weeks on the sea. He'd felt the need before, often, often, in their years apart. But why now? She was safe; he knew where she was - was it only the exhaustion of the past weeks and days, or perhaps the weakness of creeping age that made his bones ache, as though she had in fact been torn from his body, as God had made Eve from Adam's rib?

When you hold a child to your breast to nurse, the curve of the little head echoes exactly the curve of the breast it suckles, as though this new person truly mirrors the flesh from which it sprang.

Your face is my heart

A man who had never spoken love to me, who had never needed to, for I knew he loved me, as surely as I knew I lived. For where all love is, the speaking is unnecessary. It is all. It is undying. And it is enough.

All the names I've called you through the years—my chick, my pumpkin, precious dove, darling, sweetheart, dinky, smudge Ã¢â'¬Â¦ I know why the Jews and Muslims have nine hundred names for God; one small word is not enough for love.

If ye were no longer there—or somewhere—" he said very softly, "then the sun would no longer come up or go down." He lifted my hand and kissed it, very gently. He laid it, closed around my ring, upon my chest, rose, and left.

Do ye want me? he whispered. Sassenach, will ye take me--and risk the man that I am, for the sake of the man ye knew? I felt a great wave of relief, mingled with fear. It ran from his hand on my shoulder to the tips of my toes, weakening my joints. It's a lot too late to ask that, I said.... Because I already risked everything I had. But whoever you are now Jamie Fraser--yes. Yes, I do want you.

To have ye with me again--to talk wi' you--to know I can say anything, not guard my words or hide my thoughts--God, Sassenach, he said, the Lord knows I am lust-crazed as a lad, and I canna keep my hands from you--or anything else--he added, wryly, but I would count that all well lost, had I no more than the pleasure of havin' ye by me, and to tell ye all my heart. .... So tell me all your heart,I said. If there's time.

If," I said through my teeth, "you ever raise a hand to me again, James Fraser, I'll cut out your heart and fry it for breakfast!

Come to bed, a nighean. Nothing hurts when ye love me." He was right; nothing did.

I'll thank ye," said a cool, level voice, "to take your hands off my wife.

Jamie… I only want to be where you are. Nothing else.

You cannot compel love, he said finally, nor summon it at will. Still less, he added ruefully, can you dismiss it.

For the moment, everything had disappeared: the church, the battle, the screams and shouts and the rumble of limber wheels along the rutted road through Freehold. There wasn't anything but her and him, and he opened his eyes to look on her face, to fix it in his mind forever.

I am a sassenach, after all," I said, seeing it. He touched my face briefly with a rueful smile. "Aye, mo duinne. But you're my sassenach.

You aren't doing it for the sake of ideals, are you? Not for the sake of...liberty. Freedom, self determination, all that.' He shook his head. 'No,' he said softly. 'Why, then? I asked, more gently. 'For you,' he said without hesitation. '...For my family. For the future. And if that is not an ideal, I've never heard of one.

No. Ye loved him. I canna hold it against either of you that ye mourn him. And it gives me some comfort to know ... He hesitated, and I reached up to smooth the rumpled hair off his face. To know what? That should the need come, you might mourn for me that way, he said softly.

As yet too hungry and too clumsy for tenderness, still he made love with a sort of unflagging joy that made me think that male virginity might be a highly underrated commodity.

Ye need not be scairt of me," he said softly. "Nor of anyone here, so long as I'm with ye.

Ian, man, I didna tell ye because I didna wish to lose you too. My brother was gone, and my father. I didna mean to lose my own heart's blood as well. For you are dearer to me even than home and family, love.'She cast a lopsided smile at Jamie. 'And that's saying quite a bit.