“Catholics don't believe in divorce. We do believe in murder. There's always Confession, after all.
--Brianna Fraser to Roger MacKenzie”
“For a long time," he said at last, "when I was small, I pretended to myself that I was the bastard of some great man. All orphans do this, I think," he added dispassionately."It makes life easier to bear, to pretend that it will not always be as it is, that someone will come and restore you to your rightful place in the world."
He shrugged.
"Then I grew older, and knew that this was not true. No one would come to rescue me. But then-" he turned his head and gave Jamie a smile of surpassing sweetness.
"Then I grew older still, and discovered that after all, it was true. I am the son of a great man."
The hook touched Jamie's hand, hard and capable.
"I wish for nothing more.”
“Roger speaking to Brianna:
It's too important. You don't forget having a dad."
You do remember your father?"
No. I remember yours.”
“When God closes a door, he opens a window. Yeah. The problem was that this particular window opened off the tenth story, and he wasn't so sure God supplied parachutes.”
“That dog is a wolf, is he not?'
'Aye, well, mostly.'
A small flash of hazel told him not to quibble.
'And yet he is thy boon companion, a creature of rare courage and affection, and altogether a worthy being?;
'Oh, aye,' he said with more confidence. 'He is."
She gave him an even look.
'Thee is a wolf, too, and I know it. But thee is my wolf, and best thee know that.'
He'd started to burn when she spoke, an ignition swift and fierce as the lighting of one of his cousin's matches. He put out his hand, palm forward, to her, still cautious lest she too, burst into flame.
'What I said to ye, before . . . that I kent ye loved me-'
She stepped forward and pressed her palm to his, her small, cool fingers linking tight.
'What I say to thee now is that I do love thee. And if thee hunts at night, thee will come home.'
Under the sycamore, the dog yawned and laid his muzzle on his paws.
'And sleep at they feet,' Ian whispered, and gathered her in with his one good arm, both of them blazing bright as day.”
“I thought I could make out Jamie's Highland screech, but that was likely imagination; they all sounded equally demented.”
“Where d'ye think he is now?" Jenny said suddenly. "Ian, I mean."
He glanced at the house, then at the new grave waiting, but of course that wasn't Ian any more. He was panicked for a moment, for his earlier emptiness returning-but then it came to him, and, without surprise, he knew what it was Ian had said to him.
"On your right, man." On his right. Guarding his weak side.
"He's just here," he said to Jenny, nodding to the spot between them. "Where he belongs.”
“Perhaps it was only that the sense of reaching out to something larger than yourself gives you some feeling that there is something larger - and there really has to be, because plainly you aren't sufficient to the situation.”
“Come to bed, a nighean. Nothing hurts when ye love me.” He was right; nothing did.”
“As usual, the note occupied less than a page and included neither salutation nor closing, Uncle Hal's opinion being that since the letter had a direction upon it, the intended recipient was obvious, the seal indicated plainly who had written it, and he did not waste his time in writing to fools.”
“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 fingertips, a faint smile. “A woman takes life with her when she goes. A woman is … infinite possibility.” “Idiot,” I said, very softly. “If you think one man is just like any other.”
“But even things that heal leave scars.”
“Lord, he’d said. Let me be enough. That prayer had lodged in my heart like an arrow when I’d heard it and thought he asked for help in doing what had to be done. But that wasn’t what he’d meant at all—and the realization of what he had meant split my heart in two. I took his face between my hands, and wished so much that I had his own gift, the ability to say what lay in my heart, in such a way that he would know. But I hadn’t.”
“Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end: then stop. The line from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland drifted through my mind, and I smiled. Good advice, I supposed – but only if you happened to know where the beginning was, and I didn’t quite.”
“You do mean it, then,” I said. “You feel … er … betrothed to her?” “Well, of course he does, Sassenach,” Jamie said, reaching for another slice of toast. “He left her his dog.”
“And in the end, it does not matter. I am what God has made me, and must deal with the Times in which He has placed me.”
“A general cry of "What book? What book? Let us see this famous book!”
“Reading is of course dry work, and further refreshment was called for and consumed.”
“I’ve heard it said that a man’s reach must exceed his grasp—or what’s a heaven for?”
“It was possible to leave things behind—places, people, memories—at least for a time. But places held tight to the things that had happened in them, and to come again to a place you had once lived was to be brought face-to-face with what you had done there and who you had been.”
“God, don't laugh!" Jamie said, alarmed. "I didna mean to make ye laugh! Christ, Jenny will kill me if ye cough up a lung and die out here!”
“You’re the world I have,” she murmured, and then her breathing changed, and she took him down with her into safety.”
“Does your knee still hurt, Sassenach?” he asked, seeing me rub it. It hadn’t ever quite recovered from being strained during our adventures on the Pitt, and climbing stairs provoked it. “Oh, just part of the general decline,” I said, trying to make a joke of it. I flexed my right arm, gingerly, feeling a twinge in the elbow. “Things don’t bend quite so easily as they used to. And other things hurt. Sometimes I think I’m falling apart.” Jamie closed one eye and regarded me. “I’ve felt like that since I was about twenty,” he observed. “Ye get used to it.” He stretched, making his spine give off a series of muffled pops, and held out a hand. “Come to bed, a nighean. Nothing hurts when ye love me.” He was right; nothing did.”
“The body is amazingly plastic. The spirit, even more so. But there are some things you don’t come back from. Say ye so, a nighean? True, the body’s easily maimed, and the spirit can be crippled—yet there’s that in a man that is never destroyed.”
“This is the thin time, when the beloved dead draw near. The world turns inward, and the chilling air grows thick with dreams and mystery.”
“I feel maybe like you did,” he whispered to her, too low to wake her. “When ye came through the stones. Like the world is still there—but it’s no the world ye had.” He’d swear she hadn’t wakened, but a hand came out from the sheets, groping, and he took it. She sighed, long and sleep-laden, and pulled him down beside her. Took him in her arms and cradled him, warm on her soft breasts. “You’re the world I have,” she murmured, and then her breathing changed, and she took him down with her into safety.”
“A man’s life had to have more purpose than only to feed himself each day.”
“That's the best thing I can think of. Having a good hold on your arse always makes me feel steady.”
“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 fingertips, a faint smile. “A woman takes life with her when she goes. A woman is … infinite possibility.”
“It's over," I say, wincing- she punches harder than she realizes. I ignore the pain and run a hand over her hair, because I'm stupid, and inappropriate, and stupid...”
“Why, a trick horse is kind of like an actor—no dignity, no character of his own.”
“Why learn a number like pi to so many decimal places? The answer I gave then as I do now is that pi is for me an extremely beautiful and utterly unique thing. Like the Mona Lisa or a Mozart symphony, pi is its own reason for loving it.”
“I am what everyone always thought. A killer.”
“divided Europe. Abel looked back on it all and wondered where he had made his mistake. Was it when he agreed to take the job from Saeed? Was it when he pushed the assassins and threatened to hunt them down? At the time, it seemed like his only option, but looking back on it now, it had been a foolish and emotionally inspired move. He had no idea who they were, and they knew far too much about him. It was clear now what they had decided. He had threatened”
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