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D'ye ken that the only time I am without pain is in your bed, Sassenach? When I take ye, when I lie in your arms-my wounds are healed, then, my scars forgotten.
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
Arms
Lying
Sassenach
Pain
Scars
Without
Healed
Take
Scar
Time
Wounds
Bed
Forgotten
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He gave you to me, she said, so low I could hardly hear her. Now I have to give you back to him, Mama.
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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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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.
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I didn't want to tell the story of what makes two people come together, although that's a theme of great power and universality. I wanted to find out what it takes for two people to stay together for fifty years -- or more. I wanted to tell not the story of courtship, but the story of marriage.
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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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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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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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Highlanders make the truest friends-if only because they make the worst enemies.
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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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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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Overall, the library held a hushed exultation, as though the cherished volumes were all singing soundlessly within their covers.
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The most irritating thing about cliches, I decided, was how frequently they were true.
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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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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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The overseer wouldna speak to me of Ian, but he told me other things that would curl your hair, if it wasna already curled up like sheep's wool. He glanced at me, and a half-smile lit his face, inspite of his obvious perturbation. Judging by the state of your hair, Sassenach, I should say that it's going to rain verra soon now.
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