Quote

No wonder he was so good with horses, I thought blearily, feeling his fingers rubbing gently behind my ears, listening to the soothing, incomprehensible speech. If I were a horse, I’d let him ride me anywhere.

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
Feeling
Fingers
Outlander
Feelings
Ears
Rubbing
Thought
Horse
Incomprehensible
Good
Speech
Soothing
Behinds
Gently
Listening
Horses
Behind
Ride
Wonder
Anywhere

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What are you doing with the child? I inquired cautiously. I'm teachin' young James here the fine art of not pissing on his feet, he explained.
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Do ye not understand?he said, in near desparation. I would lay the world at your feet, Claire-and I have nothing to give ye! He honestly thought it mattered.
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It's only that ye looked so beautiful, wi' the fire on your face, and your hair waving in the wind. I wanted to remember it.
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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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No wonder men got impervious to superficial pain, I thought. It came from this habit of hammering each other incessantly.
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That's for calling your father a fool. It may be true, but it's disrespectful. Brian Fraser to teenage Jamie
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While the Lord might insist that vengeance was His, no male Highlander of my acquaintance had ever thought it right that the Lord should be left to handle such things without assistance.
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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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Don't be afraid. There's the two of us now.
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That's not precisely what I had in mind. Jamie, I had found out by accident a few days previously, had never mastered the art of winking one eye. Instead, he blinked solemnly, like a large red owl.
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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, a mother can see the child again as they were when they were born, when they learned how to walk, as they were at any age-at any time, even when the child is fully grown or a parent themselves.
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Where did you learn to kiss like that?” I said, a little breathless. He grinned and pulled me close again. “I said I was a virgin, not a monk,” he said, kissing me again. “If I find I need guidance, I’ll ask.
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Your face is my heart Sassenach, and the love of you is my soul
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We are bound, you and I, and nothing on this earth shall part me from you.
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Blood of my Blood, he whispered, and bone of my bone. You carry me within ye, Claire, and ye canna leave me now, no matter what happens, You are mine, always, if ye will it or no, if ye want me or nay. Mine, and I wilna let ye go.
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You dinna need to understand me, Sassenach, he said quietly. So long as you love me.
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There were moments, of course. Those small spaces in time, too soon gone, when everything seems to stand still, and existence is balanced on a perfect point, like the moment of change between the dark and the light, and when both and neither surround you.
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Mo Nighean donn, he whispered, mo chridhe. My brown lass, my heart. Come to me. Cover me. Shelter me. a bhean, heal me. Burn with me, as I burn for you.
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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. Do ye not know that, Sassenach?
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Do you really think we'll ever-- I do, he said with certainty, not letting me finish. He leaned over and kissed my forehead. I know it, Sassenach, and so do you. You were meant to be a mother, and I surely dinna intend to let anyone else father your children.
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