Quote

So long as my body lives, and yours -- we are one flesh, he whispered, And when my body shall cease, my soul will still be yours. Claire -- I swear by my hope of heaven, I will not be parted from you.

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
Still
Swear
Body
Cease
Soul
Flesh
Long
Shall
Heaven
Hope
Parted
Lives
Claire
Stills
Whispered

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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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I wouldna cross the road to see a scrawny woman if she was stark naked and dripping wet. ~Jamie Fraser
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If it was a sin for you to choose me . . . then I would go to the Devil himself and bless him for tempting ye to it.
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Overall, the library held a hushed exultation, as though the cherished volumes were all singing soundlessly within their covers.
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I was born for you -Claire Fraser, Outlander
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I'll leave it to you, Sassenach, he said dryly, to imagine what it feels like to arrive unexpectedly in the midst of a brothel, in possession of a verra large sausage.
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Then let amourous kisses dwell On our lips, begin and tell A Thousand and a Hundred score A Hundred and a Thousand more
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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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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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The most irritating thing about cliches, I decided, was how frequently they were true.
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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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Your face is my heart Sassenach, and the love of you is my soul
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Could I but lay my head in your lap, lass. Feel your hand on me, and sleep wi' the scent of you in my bed. Christ, Sassenach. I need ye.
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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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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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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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An Englishman thinks a hundred miles is a long way and American thinks a hundred years is a long time
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Everyone can lie, young Roger, given cause enough. Even me. It's only that it's harder for those of us who live in glass faces we have to think up our lies ahead of time.
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The past is gone-the future is not come. And we are here together, you and I.
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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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