Quotes About Connection

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

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.

He realized suddenly that every fragment of Fraser's being was focused on the scene outside. Of course; he had not seen Willie since the boy was twelve. And to see the two together—his daughter and the son he could never speak to or acknowledge. He would have touched Fraser, put a hand on his arm in sympathy, but knowing the probable effect of his touch, forbore to do it.

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—

There must have been some sound that made me look up, but I wasn't aware of having raised my head. John Grey was standing in the doorway of my room. His neckcloth was missing and his shirt hung limp on his shoulders, wine spilled down the front of it. His hair was loose and tangled, and his eyes as red as mine. I stood up, slow, as though I were underwater. "I will not mourn him alone tonight," he said roughly, and closed the door.

I felt sick when I thought of the end—but I really wanted to remember how. How it felt, and how I did it, so maybe I can do it again, with Roger.

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

friend's face that something terrible had happened. The fact that he was seeing Jamie Fraser's face at all was evidence enough of that, never mind the look of the man.

Creo que cualquier lugar en el que viva gente durante mucho tiempo probablemente absorba una parte de ellos. No hay duda de que las casas afectan a las personas que viven en ellas

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.

in which these exchanges were conducted

Here's tae us. Wha's like us?" "Damned few," she replied in broad Scots, "and they're all deid.

Alive, and one. We are one, and while we love, death will never touch us.

I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine

I wept for him while he was still alive to know it

slowly from the fire to her son, then snapped abruptly, focusing on the two little boys, who

Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone. I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One. I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done.'

was remote, even for a Highland farm. No real roads led there, but the post still reached us by messenger, over the crags and the heather-clad slopes, a connection with the world outside. It was a world that sometimes seemed unreal in memory

Oh, God, John!" he said. I stopped dead, halted much more by the tone of that voice than by the words—it was broken with an emotion I had seldom heard from him. Walking very quietly, I drew closer. Framed in the half-open door was Jamie, head bowed as he pressed Lord John Grey tight in a fervent embrace. I stood still, completely incapable of movement or speech. As I watched, they broke apart.

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.

When we met, that night aboard the Porpoise—I'm glad you didn't know who I was. I Ã¢â'¬Â¦ liked you. Then.