Quotes About Love

But her father was gone, replaced by a violent stranger; a man who had her face, but could not understand her heart, a man who had taken both family and home from her, and not satisfied with that, had taken love and safety too, leaving her bereft in this strange, harsh land

Do him no harm to keep his breeches on for one night. And they do say that abstinence makes the heart grow firmer, no?" "Absence," I said, dodging the spoon for a moment. "And fonder. If anything's growing firmer from abstinence, it wouldn't be his heart.

Benden korkmana hiç gerek yok. dedi yumuÅŸak bir sesle. Ben yan?nda olduÄŸum sürece hiç kimseden korkmana gerek yok.

You are my courage, as I am your conscience," he whispered. "You are my heart—and I your compassion. We are neither of us whole, alone.

Always, always, I had had to balance compassion with wisdom, love with judgment, humanity with ruthlessness.

So long as my body lives, and yours—we are one flesh

I knew ye weren't a fairy, Auntie Claire!

Do you miss her greatly—your wife?" I felt a bit hesitant about asking, but he didn't seem to find the question intrusive.

Diana Gabaldon

He grinned wryly at his nephew. "Ye'll amount to something for your mother's sake—if it kills us both.

But I talk to you as I talk to my own soul, And, Sassenach," he whispered, "your face is my heart.

Tu eres sangre de mi sangre y carne de mi carne, te doy mi cuerpo para que seamos uno, te entrego mi alma, hasta el find e nuestras vidas

Tú eres sangre de mi sangre y carne de mi carne, te doy mi cuerpo para que seamos uno, te entrego mi alma, hasta el fin de nuestras vidas

squeezed her heart. Claire murmured something

I tried to ignore the conversation going on behind me, to lose myself instead in the memory of Jamie hewing bark and squaring logs, of sleeping in his arms under the shelter of a half-built wall, feeling the house rise up around me, enclosing me in warmth and safety, the permanent embodiment of his embrace. I always felt safe and soothed by this vision, even when I was alone on the mountain, knowing I was protected by the house he had built for me.

He didn't speak for a bit, but his weight drew me closer, like a moon pulled near to its planet. I lay quiet, my hand on him, my hip against his—flesh of his flesh.

When I'd lost him the first time, before Culloden, I'd remembered every moment of our last night together. Tiny things would come back to me through the years: the taste of salt on his temple and the curve of his skull as I cupped his head; the soft fine hair at the base of his neck, thick and damp in my fingers... the sudden, magical well of his blood in dawning light when I'd cut his hand and marked him forever as my own. Those things kept him by me.

What is it, love? I whispered. Jamie, I do love you. I know it, he said quietly. I do know it, my own. 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 back to sleep, mo duinne.

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?

I want you Claire. I want you so much I can scarcely breathe. Will you have me?

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—

Tu comprends, mon enfant, mon fils? Comprends-tu? Jamie to Fergus

It is strange," Mr. Willoughby said, and the air of reflection in his voice was echoed exactly by Jamie's, "but it was my joy of women that Second Wife saw and loved in my words. Yet by desiring to possess me—and my poems—she would have forever destroyed what she admired." Mr.

Does it ever stop? The wanting you? Even when I just left ye, I want you so much my chest feels tight and my fingers ache with wanting to touch ye again.