No! shouted the prisoner, his voice rising above the others, anger lost in terror. No, please! I told you all I— There was a small sound, a hollow noise like a melon being kicked in, and the voice sto...
No, the fault lies with the artists, Claire went on. The writers, the singers, the tellers of tales. It’s them that take the past and re-create it to their liking. Them that could take a fool and give...
No, there were differences. However unknown my future, it would be shared, and the bond between my man and me went much deeper than the flesh. Beyond all this was the one great difference, though—I ha...
Oh, many and many a time, he whispered. When I saw you. When I took ye, not caring did ye want me or no, did ye have somewhere else to be, someone else to love.
One had known the care of other men from his earliest years, a part of the duty of his birthright; the other had come to it later, but both felt that burden to be the will of God, she had no doubt at...
Papa says that wars take three generations to fade from the ground where they’re fought. And from what I’ve seen, Friends have quite long memories, as well. He might just have a point.
People are gregarious by necessity. Since the days of the first cave dwellers, humans—hairless, weak, and helpless save for cunning—have survived by joining together in groups; knowing, as so many oth...
Put your trust in God, and pray for guidance. And when in doubt, eat. A Franciscan monk had once given me that advice, and on the whole, I had found it useful.
There are so many there, beyond your reach. So many you can never touch, so many whose essence you can’t find, so many who slip through your fingers. But you can’t think about them. The only thing you...
There's nay shame to ha' fallen in battle, mo caraidh, he said softly. The greatest of warriors may be overcome.
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.
We come and go from mystery and, in between, we try to forget. But a breeze passing in a still room stirs my hair now and then in soft affection. I think it is my mother.
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.
What a mystery blood was -- how did a tiny gesture, a tome of voice, endure through generations like the harder verities of flesh? He had seen it again and again, watching his nieces and nephews grow,...
What is it about ye, Sassenach, I wonder? he said conversationally, eyes still fixed on Myers. What is what about me? He turned then, and gave me a narrow eye. What it is that makes every man ye meet...
Whatever they are, though, they must be exigent, to cause you to contemplate such drastic expedients. A slow smile grew on her lips, spreading into her eyes. I really like the way you talk, she said.
When I kept silence, my bones waxed old through my roaring all the day long.
When a man dies, it’s only him, he said. And one is much like another. Aye, a family needs a man, to feed them, protect them. But any decent man can do it. A woman … His lips moved against my fingerti...
Whereas, I chipped in, leaning forward and raising my own voice enough to be heard over the clop and creak of the horses, if harm comes to them because of some man, the satisfaction of blaming him wil...
Why d’ye talk to yourself? It assures me of a good listener,
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