Drums ​of Autumn (Outlander 4.) 95% 13 csillagozás

– You're a terrible liar, Sassenach. Ye're thinking so loudly, I can hear ye from here.
– You can't hear people think!
– Aye, I can. You, at least.

„I had a terrible crush on you,” she blurted, staring straight through the windshield. „But I didn't know whether you were just being nice to me because Mama asked you to, or whether -”
„Whether,” he interrupted, and smiled as she risked a tiny look at him. „Definitely whether.”

Jamie stood quite still, feeling his heart beat, watching. It was one of those strange moments that came to him rarely, but never left. A moment that stamped itself on heart and brain, instantly recallable in every detail, for all of his life.
There was no telling what made these moments different from any other, though he knew them when they came. He had seen sights more gruesome and more beautiful by far, and been left with no more than a fleeting muddle of their memory. But these – the still moments, as he called them to himself – they came with no warning; to print a random image of the most common things inside his brain, indelible. They were like the photographs that Claire had brought him, save that the moments carried with them more than vision.

Put two Highland Scots in a room together, and within ten minutes they would know each other's family histories for the last two hundred years, and have discovered a helpful number of mutual relatives and acquaitances.

What possessed ye, woman, to hit me in the heid wi' a fish whilst I was fighting for my life?

– Nothing is lost, Sassenach; only changed.
– That's the first law of thermodynamics – I said, wiping my nose.
– No, – he said. – That's faith.

– I hadna thought ever to be jealous of a dead man, – he wispered at last. – I shouldna have thought it possible.

What it is that makes every man ye meet want to take off his breeks within five minutes of meetin' ye.

– Whither thou goest, – I said – I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried. – Be it Scottish hill or southern forest. – You do what you have to; I'll be there.

– But do ye not see how verra small a thing is the noiton of death, between us two, Claire? – he whispered.