Quote

It wasn't a thing I had consciously missed, but having it now reminded me of the joy of it that drowsy intimacy in which a man's body is accessible to you as your own, the strange shapes and textures of it like a sudden extension of your own limbs.

Diana Gabaldon

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Diana Gabaldon
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: January 11
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Williams
Arizona
Diana J. Gabaldon Perez
Men
Intimacy
Extension
Like
Sudden
Accessible
Shapes
Extensions
Joy
Texture
Strange
Reminded
Wasn
Consciously
Body
Limbs
Textures
Thing
Missed
Drowsy

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An Englishman thinks a hundred miles is a long way and American thinks a hundred years is a long time
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Really rather fascinating, you know,' he confided, and I recognized, with an internal sigh, the song of the scholar, as identifying a sound as the terr-whit! of a thrush.
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And if Time is anything akin to God, I suppose that Memory must be the Devil.
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You dinna need to understand me, Sassenach, he said quietly. So long as you love me.
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So remember it, lad. If your head thinks up mischief, your backside's going to pay for it. Brian Fraser to young Jamie
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Through eons of living in a land so poor there was little to eat but oats, they had as usual converted necessity into a virtue, and insisted that they liked the stuff.
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Am I a man? To want you so badly that nothing else matters? To see you, and know I would sacrifice honor or family or life itself to lie wi' you, even though ye'd left me?
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He touched the rough crucifix that lay against his chest and whispered to the moving air, Lord, that she might be safe, she and my children. Then turned his cheek to her reaching hand and touched her throught the veils of time.
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This wife you have, Bird said at last, deeply contemplative, did you pay a great deal for her? She cost me almost everything I had, he said, with a wry tone that made the others laugh. But worth it.
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I wouldna cross the road to see a scrawny woman if she was stark naked and dripping wet. ~Jamie Fraser
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Torn between the impulse to stroke his head, and the urge to cave it in with a rock, I did neither.
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I didn't say you shouldn't worry, do you think I don't worry? But no, you probably can't do anything about me.' 'Well, maybe no, Sassenach, and maybe so. But I've lived a long enough time now to think it maybe doesna matter so much-- so long as I can love you.' -Claire & Jamie Fraser
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Only you, he said, so softly I could barely hear him. To worship ye with my body, give ye all the service of my hands. To give ye my name, and all my heart and soul with it. Only you. Because ye will not let me lie--and yet ye love me.
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Highlanders make the truest friends-if only because they make the worst enemies.
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D'ye think I don't know? he asked softly. It's me that has the easy part now. For if ye feel for me as I do for you-then I'm asking you to tear out your heart and live without it.
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There comes a turning point in intense physical struggle where one abandons oneself to a profligate usage of strength and bodily resource, ignoring the costs until the struggle is over. Women find this point in childbirth men in battle.
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Men would eat horse droppings, if ye served them wi' butter.
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If she was broken, she would slash him with her jagged edges, reckless as a drunkard with a shattered bottle.
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If I die before I say 'I love you' it's because I didn't have the time.
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Character, I think, is the single most important thing in fiction. You might read a book once for its interesting plot—but not twice.
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