Quotes About Perception

He blinked , and his eyes moved at last from her face, slowly taking in her appearance, and- with what seemed to her a new and horrified awareness- her height. My God, he croaked. You're huge.

You are beautiful," he whispered to me. "If you say so." "Do ye not believe me? Have I ever lied to you?" "That's not what I mean. I mean—if you say it, then it's true. You make it true.

I thought I could make out Jamie's Highland screech, but that was likely imagination; they all sounded equally demented.

Ye've no idea how lovely ye look, stark naked, wi' the sun behind you. All gold, like ye were dipped in it.

I wouldna cross the road to see a scrawny woman if she was stark naked and dripping wet. ~Jamie Fraser

Murtagh was one of those men who always looked a bit startled to find that women had voices, but he nodded politely enough.

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.

He wanted to ask whether she were insane, but he had been married long enough to know the price of injudicious rhetorical questions.

I do not understand men." That made him chuckle, deep in his chest. "Yes, ye do, Sassenach. Ye only wish ye didn't.

And suddenly it was all simple. He held out his arms to her. She stepped into them and found that she had been wrong; he was as big as she'd imagined—and his arms were as strong about her as she had ever dared to hope.

Time makes very little difference to the basic realities of life

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.

Deftly whipping a small tuning fork from his pocket, he struck it smartly against a pillar and held it next to Jamie's left ear. Jamie rolled his eyes heavenward, but shrugged and obligingly sang a note. The little man jerked back as though he'd been shot.

Could it be possible that he really did have enough imagination to be able to grasp the truth?

Fraser stood quite still for a moment, breathing slowly and regarding Woodbine as a tiger might regard a hedgehog: yes, he could eat it, but would the inconvenience of swallowing be worth it?

Not the historians. No, not them. Their greatest crime is that they presume to know what happened, how things come about, when they have only what the past chose to leave behind—for the most part, they think what they were meant to think, and it's a rare one that sees what really happened, behind the smokescreen of artifacts and paper.

We look in the mirror and see the shades of other faces looking back through the years; we see the shape of memory, standing solid in an empty doorway. By blood and by choice, we make our ghosts; we haunt ourselves.

She supposed that it it perhaps not fair to quarrel with someone on the basis of what you thought they were thinking

Sometimes twenty years seemed like an instant, and sometimes it seemed like a very long time indeed.

He shook his head slowly from side to side, as though it were very heavy. I could almost hear the contents sloshing.

The woman crosses the room, and it is only when she is directly in front of us that I am certain about who she is. She is dressed in a pelisse fashionable among women half her age, and the feather in her hat is an extraordinary shade of blue. Outside, a young man is waiting at her coach. Passersby will suspect that he is her son, but anyone who has ever been acquainted with her will know better.

For a moment, I saw him as he had looked the morning I married him. Duine uasal was what he looked, a man of worth. But the bold face above the lace was the same, older now, but wiser with it—yet the tilt of his shining head and the set of the wide, firm mouth, the slanted clear cat-eyes that looked into my own, were just the same. Here was a man who had always known his worth.

If God makes man in His image, we all return the favor.

My first coherent thought was, "It's raining. This must be Scotland.