Men Would Eat Horse Droppings,

And If Time Is Anything Akin To God, I Suppose That Memory Must Be The Devil.

I'll Leave It To You, Sassenach," He Said Dryly, "to Imagine What It Feels Like To Arrive Unexpectedly In The Midst Of A Brothel, In Possession Of A Verra Large Sausage.

......what I Was Born Does Not Matter, Only What I Will Make Of Myself, Only What I Will Become.

I Shook So That It Was Some Time Before I Realized That He Was Shaking Too, And For The Same Reason. I Don't Know How Long We Sat There On The Dusty Floor, Crying In Each Others Arms With The Longing Of Twenty Years Spilling Down Our Faces.

I Had Kissed My Share Of Men, Particularly During The War Years, When Flirtation And Instant Romance Were The Light-minded Companions Of Death And Uncertainty. Jamie, Thought, Was Something Different. His Extreme Gentleness Was In No Way Tentative; Rather It Was A Promise Of Power Known And Held In Leash; A Challenge And A Provocation The More Remarkable For Its Lack Of Demand. I Am Yours, It Said. And If You Will Have Me, Then.