The black of the ocean waves was the color of the sorrow in my breast, a sorrow that was never far away and always visible.
I talk to you as I talk to my own soul, he said, turning me to face him. He reached up and cupped my cheek, fingers light on my temple. And Sassenach, he whispered, Your face is my heart.
Americans may say they love our accents (I have been accused of sounding 'like Princess Di') but the more thoughtful ones resent and rather dislike us as a nation and people, as friends of mine have f...
When he awoke it was dawn. Or something like dawn. The light was watery, dim and incomparably sad. Vast, grey, gloomy hills rose up all around them and in between the hills there was a wide expanse of...
Samantha imagined that in another life, she and Alison could have, indeed, been friends. Had she not been about to rob the train.
The writing talent of Edinburgh is textured - we have poets, novelists, non-fiction writers, dramatists and more.
To see the years touch ye gives me joy", he whispered, "for it means that ye live.
The infinitesimal seedlings became a forest of trees that grew courteously, correcting the distances between themselves as they shaped themselves to the promptings of available light and moisture, tem...
Tis best to weight the enemy more mighty than he seems. Or she, as was this particular case.
But I despised men who accepted their fate. I shaped mine twenty times and had it broken twenty times in my hands.
Scotland consistently produces world-class writers.
Each time he took a walk, he felt as though he were leaving himself behind, and by giving himself up to the movement of the streets, by reducing himself to a seeing eye, he was able to escape the obli...
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Dear friends, he began, there is no timetable for happiness; it moves, I think, according to rules of its own. When I was a boy I thought I'd be happy tomorrow, as a young man I thought it would be ne...
Darnley, who, like Banquo's ghost, seemed to play a much more effective part in Scottish politics once he was dead than when he was alive.
However she redefined herself, that part of one that made for the core of the self, that part that we think of as the ultimate, inner being—that was ineradicable Scottish. That part spoke with a Scott...
But he'll never be fully recognised, because Scots literature these days is all about complaining and moaning and being injured in one's soul.
Amelia envisaged that between York and the royal-infested Scottish Highlands there was a grimy wasteland of derelict cranes and abandoned mills and betrayed, yet still staunch, people. Oh and moorland...
But I do like Scotland. I like the miserable weather. I like the miserable people, the fatalism, the negativity, the violence that's always just below the surface. And I like the way you deal with rel...
For me, writing stories set, well, wherever they're best set, is a form of cultural curiosity that is uniquely Scottish - we're famous for travelling in search of adventure.
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