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Book: Dragonfly in Amber
Quotes of Book: Dragonfly in Amber
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  1. Diana Gabaldon _ Dragonfly in Amber

    arisaid. A night breeze brushed a strand of hair across my face.
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  2. Diana Gabaldon _ Dragonfly in Amber

    If a ship's coming in from a port known to have plague of some kind, the damned Hollanders make the sailors swim ashore naked.
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  3. Diana Gabaldon _ Dragonfly in Amber

    -Te encontraré -susurró-. Te lo prometo. Aunque deba soportar doscientos años de purgatorio, doscientos años sin ti. Ése será el castigo por mis crímenes; por haber mentido, matado, robado y traicionado. Pero algo me salvará en el balance. Cuando esté frente a Dios, tendré algo que decir que compensará el resto -Su voz se apagó, convirtiéndose en un murmullo, y estrechó sus brazos alrededor de mí-
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  4. Diana Gabaldon _ Dragonfly in Amber

    There aren't any answers, only choices. I've made a number of them myself, and no one can tell me whether they were right or wrong. Master
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  5. Diana Gabaldon _ Dragonfly in Amber

    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
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  6. Diana Gabaldon _ Dragonfly in Amber

    What is it, love?" I whispered. "Jamie, I do love you." "I know it," he said quietly. "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." I
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  7. Diana Gabaldon _ Dragonfly in Amber

    She pulled my hair," he said reflectively. "Took a clump of it out by the roots. 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.
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  8. Diana Gabaldon _ Dragonfly in Amber

    And below, the notebook filled with fine cursive script, laying out in strict order conclusion and delusion, mingling myth and science, drawing from learned men and legends, all of it based on the power of dreams. To any casual observer, it could be either a muddle of half-thought-out nonsense or, at best, the outline for a clever-silly novel. Only to me did it have the look of a careful, deliberate plan. In
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  9. Diana Gabaldon _ Dragonfly in Amber

    only joy in the doing of it, except for the one thing. The one consideration strong enough to outweigh Jamie's pride, loom larger than his sense of manhood, than his threatened soul's peace. Frank. That was the single idea that had driven me through this day, sustained me well past the
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  10. Diana Gabaldon _ Dragonfly in Amber

    Well," I said, attempting a smile, "at least we know Frank is safe, after all." Jamie glowered down at me, ruddy brows nearly touching each other. "Damn Frank!" he said ferociously. "Damn all Randalls! Damn Jack Randall, and damn Mary Hawkins Randall, and damn Alex Randall-er, God rest his soul, I mean," he amended hastily, crossing himself. "I thought you didn't begrudge-" I started. He glared at me. "I lied." He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me slightly, holding me at arm's length. "And damn you, too, Claire Randall Fraser, while I'm at it!" he said. "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's man bed! Damn you!" He knocked the brandy glass from my hand-accidentally, I think-pulled me to him and kissed me hard. He drew back enough to shake me again. "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 we both shall live. You'll no mention the man's name to me again. D'ye hear?" He kissed me fiercely to emphasize the point. "Did ye hear me?" he asked, breaking off. "Yes," I said, with some difficulty. "If you'd ….stop…shaking me, I might…answer you." Rather sheepishly, he released his grip on my shoulders. "I'm sorry, Sassenach. It's only…God, why did ye….well, aye, I see why…but did you have to-" I interrupted this incoherent sputtering by putting my hand behind his head and drawing him down to me. "Yes," I said firmly, releasing him. "I had to. But it's over now." I loosened the ties of my cloak and let it fall back off my shoulders to the floor. He bent to pick it up, but I stopped him. "Jamie," I said. "I'm tired. Will you take me to bed?
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  11. Diana Gabaldon _ Dragonfly in Amber

    I suppose you must feel some bitterness against the historians," Roger ventured. "All the writers who got it wrong--made him out to be a hero. I mean, you can't go anywhere in the Highlands without seeing the Bonnie Prince on toffee tins and souvenir tourist mugs."Claire shook her head, gazing off in the distance. The evening mist was growing heavier, the bushes beginning to drip again from the tips of their leaves."Not the historians. No, not them. Their greatest crime is that they presume to know what happened, how things come about, when they only have what the past chose to leave them behind--for the most part, they think what they were meant to think, and it's a rare one that sees what really happened, behind the smokescreen of artifacts and paper."There was a faint rumble in the distance. The evening passenger train from London, Roger knew. You could hear the whistle from the manse on clear nights."No, the fault lies with the artists," Claire went on. The writers, the singers, the tellers of tales. It's them that take the past and re-create it to their liking. Them that could take a fool and give you back a hero, take a sot and make him a king.""Are they all liars, then?" Roger asked. Claire shrugged. In spite of the chilly air, she had taken off the jacket to her suit; the damp molded the cotton shirt to show the fineness of collarbone and shoulder blades."Liars?" she asked. "Or sorcerers? Do they see the bones in the dust of the earth, see the essence of a thing that was, and clothe it in new flesh, so the plodding beast reemerges as a fabulous monster?
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  12. Diana Gabaldon _ Dragonfly in Amber

    The impulse to touch a sleeping child never fades, no matter that the child is a good deal larger than her mother, and a woman - if a young one - in her own right.
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