Honor without sense is...foolishness. A gallant foolishness, but foolishness nonetheless.
“Dragonfly in Amber” by Diana Gabaldon
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Honor without sense is...foolishness. A gallant foolishness, but foolishness nonetheless.
“Dragonfly in Amber” by Diana Gabaldon
I knew that only Jamie himself could pull me back the rest of the way, into the land of the living. That was why I had run from him, done all I could to keep him away, to make sure he would never come near me again. I had no wish to come back, no desire to feel again. I didn't want to know love, only to have it ripped away once more.
“Dragonfly in Amber” by Diana Gabaldon
I had always heretofore assumed that the tendency of eighteenth-century ladies to swoon was due to tight stays; now I rather thought it might be due to the idiocy of eighteenth-century men.
“Dragonfly in Amber” by Diana Gabaldon
I can stand a lot! But just because I can, does that mean I must? Do I have to bear everyone's weakness? Can I not have my own?
“Dragonfly in Amber” by Diana Gabaldon
I wondered whether perhaps babies had no gender - physical characteristics aside - until birth, when the act of exposure to the outside world set them forever as one or the other.
“Dragonfly in Amber” by Diana Gabaldon
Music is...a lock to which you have no key?
“Dragonfly in Amber” by Diana Gabaldon
If you've had much to do wi' Highland Scots, then ye'll know that it's rare to find two of them in agreement on anything much beyond the color of the sky - and even that is open to question from time to time.
“Dragonfly in Amber” by Diana Gabaldon
There is very little difference between medicine and magic, when it comes to some kinds of healing.
“Dragonfly in Amber” by Diana Gabaldon
A man who had never spoken love to me, who had never needed to, for I knew he loved me, as surely as I knew I lived. For where all love is, the speaking is unnecessary. It is all. It is undying. And it is enough.
“Outlander” by Diana Gabaldon
I think it's as though everyone has a small place inside themselves, maybe, a private bit that they keep to themselves. It's like a little fortress, where the most private part of you lives - maybe it's your soul, maybe just that bit that makes you yourself and not anyone else.
“Outlander” dy Diana Gabaldon
I can bear pain, myself, but I could not bear yours. That would take more strength than I have.
“Outlander” by Diana Gabaldon
No matter how ugly the manner in which a man dies, it's only the presence of a suffering human soul that is horrifying; once gone, what is left is only an object.
“Outlander” by Diana Gabaldon
There comes a turning point in intense physical struggle where one abandons oneself to a profligate usage of strength and bodily resource, ignoring the costs until the struggle is over. Women find this point in childbirth; men in battle. Past that certain point, you lose all fear of pain or injury. Life becomes very simple at that point; you will do what you are trying to do, or die in the attempt, and it does not really matter much which.
“Outlander” by Diana Gabaldon
There is a fine line sometimes, between justice and brutality.
“Outlander” by Diana Gabaldon
If your life is a suitable exchange for my honour, tell me why my honour is not suitable exchange for your life?
“Outlander” by Diana Gabaldon
And I wept then, and shook a little, because the choice was so freshly made, and because my joy for the man I held in my arms was mingled with a tearing grief for the man I would never see again.
“Outlander” by Diana Gabaldon
Seems I canna possess your soul without losing my own.
“Outlander” by Diana Gabaldon