Scots have long memories, and they're not the most forgiving of people. There's a clan stone out there with the name of MacKenzie carved on it, and a good many of my relatives under it. I don't feel q...
Roger speaking to Brianna: It's too important. You don't forget having a dad.You do remember your father?No. I remember yours.
Relatively few who could be described as a Red-haired dejenerate Pox-ridden Usuring Son of a Bitch who skulks in Brothels when not drunk and comitting Riot in the Street, I imagine.
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.
Real danger had its own taste, vivid as lemon juice, by contrast with the weak lemonade of imagination.
Pleasure? Her voice rose behind me, incredulous. Ye mean some women like it?
People often say that women forget what childbirth is like, because if they remembered, no one would ever do it more than once. Personally, I had no trouble at all remembering. The sense of massive in...
People disappear all the time. Ask any policeman. Better yet. ask a journalist. Disappearances are bread-and-butter to journalists.Young girls run away from home. Young children stray from their paren...
Once I told him I thought beating your son was a most uncivilized method of getting your own way. He said I’d about as much sense as the post I was standing next to, if as much. He said respect for yo...
On the one hand, I did disapprove on principle of torture and cold-blooded murder. On the other …
Oh. It’s Fraser. James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. He pronounced it formally, each name slow and distinct. Completely flustered, I said Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, and stuck out my hand idioti...
Oh, foisted, is it? cried Mr. Ormiston in righteous indignation. Such a word! And if it means what I think it does, young man, you should get down on your knees and thank God for such foistingness!
Oh, Lord! This must be what it's like to make love in Hell, he whispered. With a burning she-devil.
Oh, God, John! he said. I stopped dead, halted much more by the tone of that voice than by the words—it was broken with an emotion I had seldom heard from him. Walking very quietly, I drew closer. Fra...
Of course you would protect the woman, he said. You protect everyone, John—I don’t suppose you can help it.Astonished, Grey opened his mouth to contest this absurd statement, but was forestalled when...
Och, I want them frightened of me, Sassenach. It’s the only way I’ll have a chance of bringing them out of it alive.
Now they think you’re mad; then they thought you were a witch. Cultural mores,
Not that my watching out was likely to do a lot of good, I thought; every second man on the dock looked like an assassin to me.
Not for the first time, I reflected that intimacy and romance are not synonymous.
Not everyone who goes through the stones comes out again. His look sharpened. How d’ye ken that, Sassenach? I can—I could—hear them. Screaming. I