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He leaned close, rubbing his bearded cheek against my ear. 'And how about a sweet kiss, now, for the brave lads of the clan MacKenzie? Tulach Ard!' Erin go bragh,' I said rudely, and pushed with all my strength.

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
Ears
Lad
Outlander
Close
Leaned
Rudely
Sweet
Cheek
Bearded
Strength
Pushed
Erin
Cheeks
Lads
Kiss
Clan
Kissing
Rubbing
Brave
Clans
Mackenzie

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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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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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You dinna need to understand me, Sassenach, he said quietly. So long as you love me.
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It has always been forever, for me, Sassenach
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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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People assume that science is a very cold sort of profession, whereas writing novels is a warm and fuzzy intuitive thing. But in fact, they are not at all different.
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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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I want to hold you like a kitten in my shirt, and still I want to spread your thighs and plow ye like a rotting bull. I dinna understand myself.
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What underlies great science is what underlies great art, whether it is visual or written, and that is the ability to distinguish patterns out of chaos.
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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.
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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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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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No wonder men got impervious to superficial pain, I thought. It came from this habit of hammering each other incessantly.
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He shook his head, absorbed in one of his feats of memory, those brief periods of scholastic rapture where he lost touch with the world around him, absorbed completely in conjuring up knowledge from all its sources.
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I'll scream! Likely. If not before, certainly during. I expect they'll hear ye at the next farm you've got good lungs.
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With that height, plus a face of an ugliness so transcendant as to be grotesquely beautiful, it was obvious why she had embraced a religious life--Christ was the only man from whom she might expect embrace in return.
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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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Scots have long memories, and they're not the most forgiving of people.
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The most irritating thing about cliches, I decided, was how frequently they were true.
Diana Gabaldon