Quotes About Love

We stood wrapped in each other's arms, taking comfort from our family below, yearning for the others we might never see again, at once at home and homeless, balanced on a knife edge of danger and uncertainty. But together.

One never stops to think what underlies romance. Tragedy and terror, transmuted by time. Add a little art in the telling, and voilà! a stirring romance, to make the blood run fast and maidens sigh.

Jamie was real, alright, more real than anything had ever been to me, even Frank and my life in 1945. Jamie, tender lover and perfidious blackguard.

Even when I've just left ye, I want you so much my chest feels tight and my fingers ache with wanting to touch ye again.

To see the years touch ye gives me joy, Sassenach," he whispered, "—for it means that ye live.

You said you could tear me limb from limb without touching me, I said. You were right, damn you. I am sorry, he whispered again, but this time he reached for me, and held me tight against him. That I loved you? Don't be sorry for that, I said, my voice half muffled in his shirt. Not ever.

We're going home, Sassenach. To Lallybroch.

He was generally aware that he had been blessed in her beauty; even in her usual homespun, knee-deep in mud from her garden, or stained and fierce with the blood of her calling, the curve of her bones spoke to his own marrow, and those whisky eyes could make him drunk with a glance. Besides, the mad collieshangie of her hair made him laugh.

Good sex scene is about the exchange of emotions, not bodily fluids

Ye always carry your women wi' ye into battle, Ian Òg. They're the root of your strength, man.

An unaccustomed weed of jealousy sprang up in Jamie's heart, stinging like nettles. He stamped firmly on it; he was fortunate indeed to know that his son enjoyed a loving relationship with his stepfather. There, that was the weed stamped out. The stamping, though, seemed to have left a small bruised spot on his heart; he could feel it when he breathed.

of Jamie. God, how could I do it? Leave him

Dear God," he said, still softly. "I couldna look at ye, Sassenach, and keep my hands from you, nor have ye near me, and not want ye.

Then I laid my head upon his chest and gave my dreams up to his keeping.

I suddenly realized how much I looked forward to seeing him at dinner after the day's work, how my heart would leap when I saw him unexpectedly at odd moments during the day, and how much I depended on his company and his solid, reassuring presence amid the complexities of life in the castle. And, to be perfectly honest, how much I liked the smooth, warm strength of him in my bed each night, and waking to his tousled, smiling kisses in the mornings. The prospect of his absence was bleak.

Mm, you're nice to croodle wi', he murmured, doing what I assumed was croodling.

You are blood of my blood," he said softly, "and bone of my bone. I claim thee as my son before all men, from this day forever." He looked up at Jamie, challenging. After a long moment, Jamie gave the slightest nod of acknowledgment, and stepped back, letting his hand fall from Brianna's shoulder. Roger

When I asked my da how ye knew which was the right woman, he told me when the time came, I'd have no doubt. And I didn't. When I woke in the dark on the way to Leoch, with you sitting on my chest, cursing me for bleeding to death, I said to myself, Jamie Fraser, for all ye canna see what see looks like, and for all she weighs as much as a good draught horse, this is the woman.

Intimacy and romance are not synonymous.

I cried then, holding nothing back. For empty years, yearning for the touch of a hand. Hollow years, lying beside a man I had betrayed, for whom I had no tenderness. For the terrors and doubts and griefs of the day. Cried for him and me and for Mary MacNab, who knew what loneliness was—and what love was, as well.

Is thee afraid of me, Rachel? he whispered. I am, she whispered back, and closed her hand on his wounded shoulder, lightly but not enough for him to feel the hurt of it. And I am afraid for thee, as well. But there are things I fear much more than death--and to be without thee is what I fear most.

I think sometimes the dead cherish us, as we do them

I could feel his heart beating against my ribs, and wanted nothing more than to stay there forever, not moving

Blood of my blood," he whispered, "and bone of my bone. You carry me within ye, Claire, and ye canna leave me now, no matter what happens. You are mine, always, if ye will it or no, if ye want me or nay. Mine, and I wilna let ye go.