Quotes About Connection

And, Sassenach, he whispered, your face is my heart.

Do you know how rare such a thing is?" he asked quietly. "That peculiar sort of mutual passion?" The one-sided kind was common enough.

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?

It was a leap of faith—to throw one's heart across a gulf, and trust another to catch it.

Is it usual, what it is between us when I touch you?

And I looked, held prisoner, bound to him. Looked, as he dropped the last of his masks, and showed me the depths of himself, and the wounds of his soul. I would have wept for his hurt, and for mine, had I been able. But his eyes held mine, tearless and open, boundless as the salt sea. His body held mine captive, driving me before his strength, like the west wind in the sails of a bark. And I voyaged into him,as he into me...

Ye lost your parents young, mo nighean donn, and wandered about the world, rootless. Ye loved Frank"—his mouth compressed for an instant, but I thought he was unconscious of it—"and of course ye love Brianna and Roger Mac and the weans Ã¢â'¬Â¦ but, Sassenach—I am the true home of your heart, and I know that.

He wished to cover her with his body, possess her-for if he could do that, he could pretend to himself that she was safe. Covering her so...he might protect her. Or so he felt, even knowing how senseless the feeling was.

I have noticed," she said slowly, "that time does not really exist for mothers, with regard to their children. It does not matter greatly how old the child is—in the blink of an eye, the mother can see the child again as it was when it was born, when it learned to walk, as it was at any age—at any time, even when the child is fully grown and a parent itself.

Ian—is that by chance Ian Murray?" Grey asked, but then answered himself. "I suppose it must be; how many Mohawks can there be named Ian?

Yes. It doesn't matter what happens; no matter where a child goes - how far or how long. Even if it's forever. You never lose them. You can't.

Claire. The name knifed across his heart with a pain that was more racking than anything his body had ever been called on to withstand.

Don't cry, Sassenach, he said, so softly I could barely hear him.

If I were a horse, I'd let him ride me anywhere.

You're the world I have," she murmured, and then her breathing changed, and she took him down with her into safety.

The past is gone—the future is not come. And we are here together, you and I.

Once I had thought I was whole -- had seemed to be able to love a man, to bear a child, to heal the sick--and know that all these things were natural parts of me, not the difficult, troubled fragments into which my life had now disintegrated. But that had been in the past, the man I had loved was Jamie, and for a time, I had been part of something greater than myself.

I felt the tributaries of his veins, wished to enter into his bloodstream, travel there, dissolved and bodiless, to take refuge in the thick walled chambers of his heart.

Well, I'll tell ye, Sassenach, 'graceful' is possibly not the first word that springs to mind at the thought of you. He slipped an arm behind me, one hand large and warm around my silk-clad shoulder. But I talk to you as I talk to my own soul, he said, turning me to face him. He reached up and cupped my cheek, fingers light on my temple. And, Sassenach, he whispered, your face is my heart.

You can…call me Da," he said. His voice was husky; he stopped and cleared his throat. "If—if ye want to, I mean, Da. Is that Gaelic?" He smiled back, the corners of his mouth trembling slightly. "No. It's only…simple." And suddenly it was all simple. He held out his arms to her. She stepped into them and found that she had been wrong;—and his arms were as strong about her as she had ever dared to hope.

The night was cold, and very quiet, as though we were the only two souls in the world.

My body is out from my control," he said softly. "She was the half of my body—the very half of my soul.

I put a hand up to cup his cheek, warm and lightly stubbled. I didn't fool myself that this was paradise or even a refuge from the war - wars tended not to stay in one place but moved around, much in the manner of cyclones and even more destructive where they touched down. But for however long it lasted, this was home, and now was peace.

For so many years, he said, for so long, I have been so many things, so many different men.... But here, he said so softly I could barely hear him, here in the dark, with you.... I have no name. I lifted my face toward his, and took the warm breath of him between my own lips. I love you, I said, and did not need to tell him how I meant it.