A Quote by Diana Gabaldon

Oh, aye, Sassenach. I am your master . . . and you're mine. Seems I canna possess your soul without losing my own. — © Diana Gabaldon
Oh, aye, Sassenach. I am your master . . . and you're mine. Seems I canna possess your soul without losing my own.
Oh soul, you worry too much. You have seen your own strength. You have seen your own beauty. You have seen your golden wings. Of anything less, why do you worry? You are in truth the soul, of the soul, of the soul.
D'ye ken that the only time I am without pain is in your bed, Sassenach? When I take ye, when I lie in your arms-my wounds are healed, then, my scars forgotten.
The sun shines through the window And the sun shines through your hair It seems like you're beside me But I know that you're not there. You would sit beside this window Run your fingers through my hair You were always there beside me But I know that you're not there Oh, to be by your side once again Oh, to hold your hand in mine again Oh, to be by your side once again Oh, to hold your hand in mine again-
It seems like your dreams are your own spirit, your own soul, telling you what you're meant to do and getting you psyched up with the idea of thinking that it was your idea all along.
…but Sassenach—I am the true home of your heart, and I know that.” He lifted my hands to his mouth and kissed my upturned palms, one and then the other, his breath warm and his beard-stubble soft on my fingers. “I have loved others, and I do love many, Sassenach—but you alone hold all my heart, whole in your hands,” he said softly. “And you know that.
Oh won't you stay Stay a while with your own ones Don't ever stray Stray so far from your own ones 'Cause the world is so cold Don't care nothing for your soul That you share with your own ones.
To be laughed at is no great hardship to me. I can delight in scoffs and jeers. Caricatures, lampoons, and slanders are my glory. But that you should turn from your own mercy, this is my sorrow. Spit on me, but, oh, repent! Laugh at me, but, oh, believe in my Master! Make my body as the dirt of the streets, but damn not your own souls!
Your face is my heart Sassenach, and the love of you is my soul
Your fate is to be what you are. As mine is to be what I am...your master.
Choose battles that you can win without losing your heart and your soul.
Love is when I am concerned with your relationship with your own life, rather than with your relationship to mine. . . . there must be a commitment to each other's well-being. Most people who say they have a commitment don't; they have an attachment. Commitment means, "I am going to stick with you and support your experience of well-being." Attachment means, "I am stuck without you."
You are my courage, as I am your conscience," he whispered. "You are my heart---and I your compassion. We are neither of us whole, alone. Do ye not know that, Sassenach?
I am learning to live close to the lives of my friends without ever seeing them. No miles of any measurement can separate your soul from mine.
We think it will be shortly afterwards, but it seems a terrible thing to gamble with such big stakes in diplomacy without having your master card in your hand.
?"I have no fear of losing u, for you aren't an object of my property, or anyone else's. I love you as you are, without attachment, without fears, without conditions, without egoism, trying not to absorb you. I love you freely because I love your freedom, as well as mine.
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.
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