Quote

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.

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
Head
Brief
Knowledge
Sources
Scholastic
Lost
Memory
Scholastics
Around
Touch
Conjuring
World
Periods
Feats
Completely
Rapture
Source
Shook
Memories
Absorbed

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Highlanders make the truest friends-if only because they make the worst enemies.
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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.
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Men would eat horse droppings, if ye served them wi' butter.
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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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And if Time is anything akin to God, I suppose that Memory must be the Devil.
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And Finally I put down the last and the best advice I knew, on growing older. 'Stand up straight and try not to get fat.
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We have nothing now between us, save - respect, perhaps. And I think that respect has maybe room for secrets, but not for lies.
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We are bound, you and I, and nothing on this earth shall part me from you.
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I stood still, vision blurring, and in that moment, I heard my heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower's stem.
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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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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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Why, what's the matter wi' the poor child? she demanded of Jamie. Has she had an accident o' some sort? No, it's only she's married me, he said, though if ye care to call it an accident, ye may.
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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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For so many years, for so long, I have been so many things, so many different men. But here, he said, so softly I could barely hear him, here in the dark, with you… I have no name.
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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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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?
Diana Gabaldon
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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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Your face is my heart
Diana Gabaldon
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It would ha' been a good deal easier, if ye'd only been a witch.
Diana Gabaldon