Quotes About Emotion

Damn you, Sassenach! his voice said, from a very great distance. His voice was choked with passion. Damn you! I swear if ye die on me, I'll kill you!

When the day shall come, that we do part," he said softly, and turned to look at me, "if my last words are not 'I love you'—ye'll ken it was because I didna have time.

When you kissed me like that well maybe you weren't so sorry to be marrying me after all.

When I'd lost him the first time, before Culloden, I'd remembered. Every moment of our last night together. Tiny things would come back to me through the years: the taste of salt on his temple and the curve of his skull as I cupped his head; the soft fine hair at the base of his neck, thick and damp in my fingers Ã¢â'¬Â¦ the sudden, magical well of his blood in dawning light when I'd cut his hand and marked him forever as my own. Those things had kept him by me.

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

Your face is my heart, Sassenach," he said softly, "and love of you is my soul. But you're right; ye canna be my conscience.

He said the greatest thing in a man's life is to lie wi' a woman he loves

I like ye fat, Sassenach," he said softly. "Fat and juicy as a plump wee hen. I like it fine.

The vivid memory of the woods had blossomed into a visceral longing for the Ridge, so immediate that I felt the ghost of my vanished house rise around me, a cold mountain wind thrumming past its walls, and thought that, if I reached down, I could feel Adso's soft gray fur under my fingers. I swallowed, hard.

My love," he whispered. "Oh, my love. I do want ye so.

I glanced upward once, to see Brianna glowing, still smiling from ear to ear. Jamie was behind her, also smiling, his cheeks wet with tears. He said something to her in husky Gaelic, and brushing the hair away from her neck, leaned forward and kissed her gently, just behind the ear

Does it ever stop? The wanting you?" His hand came around to caress my breast. "Even when I've just left ye, I want you so much my chest feels tight and my fingers ache with wanting to touch ye again.

I love you," he murmured. "Oh, Bree, I do love you." She didn't answer, but a hand floated up from the dark and lay along his cheek, gentle as a tendril of seaweed. She kept it there while he took her, laid open in trust, while her other hand held his beating heart.

I want to hold you hard to me and kiss you, and never let you go. I want to take you to my bed and use you like a whore, 'til I forget that I exist. And I want to put my head in your lap and weep like a child.

Feel my heart," he said. His voice sounded thick to his own ears. "Tell me if it stops.

At the best of times, Father Bain's face resembled a clenched fist.

his weight pinning me to the bed.

Jealousy had nothing to do with logic.

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 never stops to think what underlies romance. Tragedy and terror, transmuted by time. Add a little art in the telling, and voilà! a stirring romance, to make the blood run fast and maidens sigh.

And so he began haltingly to speak—in Gaelic, as it was the only tongue that didn't seem to require any effort. He understood that he was to speak of what filled his heart, and so began with Scotland—and Culloden. Of grief. Of loss. Of fear.

Even when I've just left ye, I want you so much my chest feels tight and my fingers ache with wanting to touch ye again.

To see the years touch ye gives me joy, Sassenach," he whispered, "—for it means that ye live.

Hello," I said softly, one hand over the butterfly wings that beat inside me.