And … I couldn’t bear to be alone and I couldn’t bear for him to be alone and I more or less flung myself at him because I very much needed someone to touch me just then.
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. --Jamie
And then, when he had told all he could, Fraser had laughingly revealed that the woman was his wife. They’d all laughed; he could hear the ribald Scottish voices now, hilarious in memory. Grey rolled...
And here I thought I married you because ye had a fair face and a fine fat arse. To think you’ve a brain as well!
And found myself lying with my head in Jamie’s lap. And heard him saying softly, to himself or to me, For your sake, I will continue—though for mine alone … I would not.
And I want only to throw myself into it and be consumed.
An unaccustomed weed of jealousy sprang up in Jamie’s heart, stinging like nettles. He stamped firmly on it; he was fortunate indeed to know that his son enjoyed a loving relationship with his stepfat...
Amo, amas, I love a lass, As cedar tall and slender; Sweet cowslip’s grace Is her nominative case, And she’s o’ the feminine gender.
All the sounds of the house, from the creak of the back stair under an early-rising maid’s foot, to the drumming rain on the roofslates, were sounds he had heard a thousand times before; heard so ofte...
All of them, I said firmly, all four of them; they wanted what was best for you. Best for me, he repeated bleakly. Right. His knuckles had gone white again, and he gave me a look through narrowed eyes...
All mankind is of one author, he said slowly, and is one volume. When one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so transl...
All loss is one, and one loss becomes all, a single death the key to the gate that bars memory.
Alive, and one. We are one, and while we love, death will never touch us.
Alive, and one. We are one, and while we love, death will never touch us. The grave’s a fine and private place/But none, I think, do there embrace.
Ale, man, ale’s the stuff to drink, For fellows whom it hurts to think.
After all, who’s going to look after all the sick folk, if your grannie’s lying about in pieces? F
Actually, it wasn’t bad, Claire said, surprisingly. Mullein leaves are really very nice; quite as good as two-ply bathroom tissue. And in the winter or indoors, it was usually a bit of damp rag; not v...
A sadist with a sense of humor was particularly dangerous.
A mark on one arm like the one I bore. Here, in this time, the mark of sorcery, the mark of a magus. The small, homely scar of a smallpox vaccination.
A man killed with a musket was just as dead as one killed with a mortar. It was just that the mortar killed impersonally, destroying dozens of men, while the musket was fired by one man who could see...