Outlander Quotes

“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.”
― Diana Gabaldon

“I will find you," he whispered in my ear. "I promise. If I must endure two hundred years of purgatory, two hundred years without you - then that is my punishment, which I have earned for my crimes. For I have lied, and killed, and stolen; betrayed and broken trust. But there is the one thing that shall lie in the balance. When I shall stand before God, I shall have one thing to say, to weigh against the rest."

His voice dropped, nearly to a whisper, and his arms tightened around me.

Lord, ye gave me a rare woman, and God! I loved her well.”
― Diana Gabaldon, Dragonfly in Amber

“Murtagh was right about women. Sassenach, I risked my life for ye, committing theft, arson, assault, and murder into the bargain. In return for which ye call me names, insult my manhood, kick me in the ballocks and claw my face. Then I beat you half to death and tell ye all the most humiliating things have ever happened to me, and ye say ye love me." He laid his head on his knees and laughed some more. Finally he rose and held out a hand to me, wiping his eyes with the other.
"You're no verra sensible, Sassenach, but I like ye fine. Let's go.”
― Diana Gabaldon, Outlander

“If I die," he whispered in the dark, "dinna follow me. The bairns will need ye. Stay for them. I can wait.”
― Diana Gabaldon, A Breath of Snow and Ashes

“All right you bloody Scottish bastard, lets see how stubborn you really are.”
― Diana Gabaldon, Outlander

“No wonder he was so good with horses, I thought blearily, feeling his fingers rubbing gently behind my ears, listening to the soothing, incomprehensible speech. If I were a horse, I’d let him ride me anywhere.”
― Diana Gabaldon, Outlander

“Look back, hold a torch to light the recesses of the dark. Listen to the footsteps that echo behind, when you walk alone.
All the time the ghosts flit past and through us, hiding in the future. We look in the mirror and see the shades of other faces looking back through the years; we see the shape of memory, standing solid in an empty doorway. By blood and by choice, we make our ghosts; we haunt ourselves.
Each ghost comes unbidden from the misty grounds of dream and silence.
Our rational minds say, "No, it isn't."
But another part, an older part, echoes always softly in the dark, "Yes, but it could be.”
― Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn

“I have lived through war, and lost much. I know what's worth the fight, and what is not. Honor and courage are matters of the bone, and what a man will kill for, he will sometimes die for, too. And that, O kinsman, is why a woman has broad hips; that bony basin will harbor a man and his child alike. A man's life springs from his woman's bones, and in her blood is his honor christened. For the sake of love alone, I would walk through fire again.”
― Diana Gabaldon, The Fiery Cross

“Harmless as a setting dove," he agreed. "I'm too hungry to be a threat to anything but breakfast. Let a stray bannock come within reach, though, and I'll no answer for the consequences.”
― Diana Gabaldon

“(...) When I asked my Da how ye knew which was the right woman, he told me when the time came, I'd have no doubt. And I didn't. When I woke in the dark under that tree on the road to Leoch, with you sitting on my chest, cursing me for bleeding to death, I said to myself, 'Jamie Fraser, for all ye canna see what she looks like, and for all she weighs as much as a good draft horse, this is the woman”
― Diana Gabaldon, Outlander

“I always wake when you do, Sassenach; I sleep ill without ye by my side.”
― Diana Gabaldon, The Fiery Cross

“What's that you're doing, Sassenach?"

"Making out little Gizmo's birth certificate--so far as I can," I added.

"Gizmo?" he said doubtfully. "That will be a saint's name?"

"I shouldn't think so, though you never know, what with people named Pantaleon and Onuphrius. Or Ferreolus."

"Ferreolus? I dinna think I ken that one." He leaned back, hands linked over his knee.

"One of my favorites," I told him, carefully filling in the birthdate and time of birth--even that was an estimate, poor thing. There were precisely two bits of unequivocal information on this birth certificate--the date and the name of the doctor who's delivered him.

"Ferreolus," I went on with some new enjoyment, "is the patron saint of sick poultry. Christian martyr. He was a Roman tribune and a secret Christian. Having been found out, he was chained up in the prison cesspool to await trial--I suppose the cells must have been full. Sounds rather daredevil; he slipped his chains and escaped through the sewer. They caught up with him, though, dragged him back and beheaded him."

Jamie looked blank.

"What has that got to do wi' chickens?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. Take it up with the Vatican," I advised him.

"Mmphm. Aye, well, I've always been fond of Saint Guignole, myself." I could see the glint in his eye, but couldn't resist.

"And what's he the patron of?"

"He's involved against impotence." The glint got stronger. "I saw a statue of him in Brest once; they did say it had been there for a thousand years. 'Twas a miraculous statue--it had a cock like a gun muzzle, and--"

"A what?"

"Well, the size wasna the miraculous bit," he said, waving me to silence. "Or not quite. The townsfolk say that for a thousand years, folk have whittled away bits of it as holy relics, and yet the cock is still as big as ever." He grinned at me. "They do say that a man w' a bit of St. Guignole in his pocket can last a night and a day without tiring."

"Not with the same woman, I don't imagine," I said dryly. "It does rather make you wonder what he did to merit sainthood, though, doesn't it?"

He laughed.

"Any man who's had his prayer answered could tell yet that, Sassenach."
(PP. 841-842)”
― Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!" -Claire”
― Diana Gabaldon

“It would ha' been a good deal easier, if ye'd only been a witch.”
― Diana Gabaldon, The Exile: An Outlander Graphic Novel

“One dictum I had learned on the battlefields of France in a far distant war: You cannot save the world, but you might save the man in front of you, if you work fast enough.”
― Diana Gabaldon

“He leaned close, rubbing his bearded cheek against my ear. 'And how about a sweet kiss, now, for the brave lads of the clan MacKenzie? Tulach Ard!'
Erin go bragh,' I said rudely, and pushed with all my strength.”
― Diana Gabaldon, Outlander

“Some enterprising rabbit had dug its way under the stakes of my garden again. One voracious rabbit could eat a cabbage down to the roots, and from the looks of things, he'd brought friends. I sighed and squatted to repair the damage, packing rocks and earth back into the hole. The loss of Ian was a constant ache; at such moments as this, I missed his horrible dog as well.

I had brought a large collection of cuttings and seeds from River Run, most of which had survived the journey. It was mid-June, still time--barely--to put in a fresh crop of carrots. The small patch of potato vines was all right, so were the peanut bushes; rabbits wouldn't touch those, and didn't care for the aromatic herbs either, except the fennel, which they gobbled like licorice.

I wanted cabbages, though, to preserve a sauerkraut; come winter, we would want food with some taste to it, as well as some vitamin C. I had enough seed left, and could raise a couple of decent crops before the weather turned cold, if I could keep the bloody rabbits off. I drummed my fingers on the handle of my basket, thinking. The Indians scattered clippings of their hair around the edges of the fields, but that was more protection against deer than rabbits.

Jamie was the best repellent, I decided. Nayawenne had told me that the scent of carnivore urine would keep rabbits away--and a man who ate meat was nearly as good as a mountain lion, to say nothing of being more biddable. Yes, that would do; he'd shot a deer only two days ago; it was still hanging. I should brew a fresh bucket of spruce beer to go with the roast venison, though . . . (Page 844)”
― Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn

“And what's wrong wi' the way ye smell?' he said heatedly. 'At least ye smelt like a woman, not a damn flower garden. What d'ye think I am, a man or a bumblebee? Would ye wash yourself, Sassenach, so I can get within less than ten feet of ye?”
― Diana Gabaldon, Dragonfly in Amber

“He tolk both my hands in his, then, and kissed them - the left which still bore the gold ring of my marriage to Frank, and then the right, with his own silver ring..
"Da mi basia mille," he whispered, smiling. Give me a thousand kisses. It was the inscription inside my ring, a brief quotation from a love song by Catullus. I bent and gave him one back. "Dein mille altera, " I said. Then a thousand more.”
― Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn

“- Eh bien... je ne suis pas sûr de pourvoir l'expliquer, mais je viens de me rendre compte que j'avais vécu plus longtemps que mon père, ce à quoi je ne m'étais jamais attendu. C'est juste que... cela me fait bizarre, c'est tout. Toi qui as perdu ta mère si jeune, tu n'y penses jamais ?
- Si.
Mon visage était enfoui contre son torse, ma voix se perdant dans les plis de sa chemise.
- ... Autrefois, quand j'étais jeune. C'est comme partir en voyage sans carte.
Sa main dans mon dos s'arrêta un instant.
- Oui, c'est ça. Je savais plus ou moins ce que signifiait être un homme trentenaire, quadragénaire... mais maintenant ?
Il émit un petit bruit, un mélange d'amusement et de perplexité.
- Il faut s'inventer soit-même, dis-je doucement. On regarde les autres femmes, ou les autres hommes. On essaie leur vie pour voir si elle nous va. Puis, on cherche à l'intérieur de soi ce qu'on ne trouve pas ailleurs. Et on se demande toujours... toujours... si on a fait ce qu'il fallait.
Sa main était lourde et chaude dans mon dos. Il sentit les larmes qui s'étaient brusquement mises à couler du coin de mes yeux sur sa chemise. Son autre main se posa sur ma tête et caressa mes cheveux.
- Oui, c'est ça, répéta-t-il tout doucement.”
― Diana Gabaldon, La Croix de feu / Le Temps des rêves

“Et papa ?
- Et papa quoi ?
- Fait-il partie de ceux qui ont toujours su ) quoi ils étaient destinés ?
Les mains de Claire s'arrêtèrent un instant.
- Oh ! oui, il sait.
- Quoi ? Un laird, un chef ? Sa mère hésita, réfléchissant.
- Non, répondit-elle enfin.
Elle prit le pilon et se mit à écraser la marjolaine. Son parfum s'éleva dans la pièce comme de l'encens.
- Un homme. Ce qui n'est pas rien.”
― Diana Gabaldon, The Fiery Cross

“- Tu es belle, me murmura-t-il.
- Si tu le dis...
- Tu ne me crois pas ? T'ai-je déjà menti ?
- Ce n'est pas ça. Je voulais dire que, à partir du moment où tu le dis, ça devient vrai.C'est ton regard qui me rend belle.”
― Diana Gabaldon, La croix de feu

“If he were to find rest tonight, they would have to be exhumed; the ghosts raised in order to lay them.”
― Diana Gabaldon

“It’s . . . it’s like . . . 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 parts of you lives - maybe it’s your soul, maybe just that bit that makes you yourself and not anyone else.’ His tongue probed his swollen lip unconsciously as he thought.

‘You don’t show that bit of yourself to anyone, usually, unless sometimes to someone that ye love greatly.’ The hand relaxed curling around my knee. Jamie’s eyes were closed again, lids sealed against the night.”
― Diana Gabaldon, Outlander

“"Epic drama, with a lot of love that withstands it all." She leaned in closer and whispered, "And great steamy scenes, if that's your thing."
Jack laughed. Now he knew he'd be reading it. Who didn't love a little steam?”
― Amy E. Reichert, Once Upon a December

“Excuse me." A pretty brunette appears at his elbow, tossing back her hair so he can get a good view down the front of her tube top. "Really sorry to bother you, but my friend and I have a bit of a bet on. Are you the guy from Outlander?"
"No," crows Calum, "he's better! You should see what happens when you put a hand on his old stones!”
― Brianne Moore, All Stirred Up

“You're reading Outlander?" Steph said, pointing to the book cover.
Astra loved that book, about a woman who had escaped into the past to live another life and find true love. She had reread the entire series three times and here he was reading it. Such a surprising choice. She would have expected him to read something by Tom Wolfe or Stephen King, maybe even some presidential memoirs, but certainly not a time-traveling historical romance. She should know better than to try to predict a person's reading preferences--- they were never what you anticipated.
Jack shrugged and set her kringle on the countertop.
"I like how even time can't keep two people who belong together apart.”
― Amy E. Reichert, Once Upon a December

“L'être humain est grégaire par nécessité. Les hommes des cavernes, nus et faibles, armés de leur seule ruse, n'ont survécu qu'en se rassemblant en communautés, sachant, comme tant d'autres espèces comestibles, que leur nombre les protégerait. Cette conscience, profondément ancrée dans l'âme humaine, est à la base du comportement des masses. Pendant des millénaires, celui qui osait se démarquer du groupe, sans parler de s'y opposer, se condamnait à mort. Faire face seul à une foule demande plus que du courage, car il faut surmonter sont instinct de survie.”
― Diana Gabaldon

“Jamie was not my first hero. The man moved too quickly through the field hospital, as a rule, for the nurses to become well acquainted with them, but now and again you would see a man who talked too little or joked too much, who held himself more stiffly than pain and loneliness would account for.

And I knew, roughly, what could be done for them. If there was time, and if they were the kind who talked to keep the dark at Bay, you sat with them and listened. If they were silent, you touched them often in passing, and watched for the unguarded moment, when you might draw them outside of themselves and hold them while they exorcised their demons. If there was time. And if there wasn't, then you jabbed them with morphine, and hoped they would manage to find someone else to listen, while you passed on to a man whose wounds were visible.”
― Diana Gabaldon

“Life is under no obligation to give us what we expect”
― Diana Gabaldon