If it was a sin for you to choose me . . . then I would go to the Devil himself and bless him for tempting ye to it.
If it was a sin for you to choose me . . . then I would go to the Devil himself and bless him for tempting ye to it.
I'll tell ye, Sassenach; if ever I feel the need to change my manner of employment, I dinna think I'll take up attacking women - it's a bloody hard way to make a living.
Lying on the floor, with the carved panels of the ceiling flickering dimly above, I found myself thinking that I had always heretofore assumed that the tendency of eigh¡teenth-century ladies to swoon was due to tight stays; now I rather thought it might be due to the idiocy of eighteenth-century men.
No hay respuestas, sino elecciones.
Any piece of good music is in essence a love song.
Sassenach, I've been stabbed, bitten, slapped, and whipped since supper - which I didna get to finish. I dinna like to scare children an I dinna like to flog men, and I've had to do both. I've two hundred English camped three miles away, and no idea what to do about them. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm sore. If you've anything like womanly sympathy about ye, I could use a bit!
Could it be possible that he really did have enough imagination to be able to grasp the truth?
Scots have long memories, and they're not the most forgiving of people.
Damn right I begrudge! I grudge every memory of yours that doesna hold me, and every tear ye've shed for another, and every second you've spent in another man's bed!
Tell him I hate him to his guts and the marrow of his bones!
He shook his head slowly from side to side, as though it were very heavy. I could almost hear the contents sloshing.
That's what he got for neglecting his work to go on wild-goose chases to impress a girl
Healing comes from the healed; not from the physician.
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.
His own eyes were soft and dreamy, cloudy as a trout pool in the rain.
Torn between the impulse to stroke his head, and the urge to cave it in with a rock, I did neither.
Hodie mihi cras tibi, said the inscription. Sic transit gloria mundi. My turn today, yours tomorrow. And thus passes away the glory of the world.
We are bound, you and I, and nothing on this earth shall part me from you.
Hodie mihi cras tibi. Sic transit gloria mundi.
With that height, plus a face of an ugliness so transcendant as to be grotesquely beautiful, it was obvious why she had embraced a religious life--Christ was the only man from whom she might expect embrace in return.
I do know it, my own. Let me tell ye in your sleep how much I love you. For there's no so much I can be saying to ye while ye wake, but the same poor words, again and again. While ye sleep in my arms, I can say things to ye that would be daft and silly waking, and your dreams will know the truth of them. Go back to sleep, mo duinne.
You are mine, always, if ye will it or no, if ye want me or nay. Mine, and I willna let ye go
I stood still, vision blurring, and in that moment, I heard my heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower's stem.
You're mine, damn ye, Claire Fraser! Mine, and I wilna share ye, with a man or a memory, or anything whatever, so long as both shall live.
I want to hold you like a kitten in my shirt, and still I want to spread your thighs and plow ye like a rotting bull. I dinna understand myself.
I wasn't used to living crowded cheek by jowl with numbers of other people, as was customary here. People ate, slept, and frequently copulated, crammed into tiny, stifling cottages, lit and warmed by smoky peat fires. The only thing they didn't do together was bathe - largely because they didn't bathe.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories