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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.
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
Good
Lungs
Farms
Scream
Likely
Expect
Certainly
Hear
Next
Farm
More quotes by Diana Gabaldon
To see the years touch ye gives me joy, he whispered, for it means that ye live.
Diana Gabaldon
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.
Diana Gabaldon
Men would eat horse droppings, if ye served them wi' butter.
Diana Gabaldon
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
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.
Diana Gabaldon
You could tell from the books whether a library was meant for show or not. Books that were used had an open, interested feel to them, even if closed and neatly lined up on a shelf in strict order with their fellows. You felt as though the book took as much interest in you as you did in it and was willing to help when you reached for it.
Diana Gabaldon
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.
Diana Gabaldon
Character, I think, is the single most important thing in fiction. You might read a book once for its interesting plot—but not twice.
Diana Gabaldon
When you're reading, you're not where you are you're in the book. By the same token, I can write anywhere.
Diana Gabaldon
I dinna know what's a sadist. And if I forgive you for this afternoon, I reckon you'll forgive me, too, as soon as ye can sit down again. As for my pleasure... His lip twitched. I said I would have to punish you. I did not say I wasna going to enjoy it. He crooked a finger at me. Come here.
Diana Gabaldon
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
It was in a way a comforting idea if there was all the time in the world, then the happenings of a given moment became less important.
Diana Gabaldon
Sassenach. He had called me that from the first the Gaelic word for outlander, a stranger. An Englishman. First in jest, then in affection.
Diana Gabaldon
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.
Diana Gabaldon
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.
Diana Gabaldon
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
I wouldna cross the road to see a scrawny woman if she was stark naked and dripping wet. ~Jamie Fraser
Diana Gabaldon
Well I am still not drunk I straightened up against the pillows as best I could. You told me once that if you could still stand up, you weren't drunk. You aren't standing up. he point out. You are.
Diana Gabaldon
If she was broken, she would slash him with her jagged edges, reckless as a drunkard with a shattered bottle.
Diana Gabaldon
I shook so that it was some time before I realized that he was shaking too, and for the same reason. I don't know how long we sat there on the dusty floor, crying in each others arms with the longing of twenty years spilling down our faces.
Diana Gabaldon
