There Aren't Any Answers, Only

...still I Dinna Expect Anything To Happen To Me. But If It Should...if It Does, Then I Want There To Be A Place For You; I Want Someone For You To Go To If I Am...not There To Care For You. If It Canna Be Me, Then I Would Have It Be A Man Who Loves You.

Everyone Can Lie, Young Roger, Given Cause Enough. Even Me. It's Only That It's Harder For Those Of Us Who Live In Glass Faces; We Have To Think Up Our Lies Ahead Of Time.

I Don't Plot The Books Out Ahead Of Time, I Don't Plan Them. I Don't Begin At The Beginning And End At The End. I Don't Work With An Outline And I Don't Work In A Straight Line.

The Overseer Wouldna Speak To Me Of Ian, But He Told Me Other Things That Would Curl Your Hair, If It Wasna Already Curled Up Like Sheep's Wool." He Glanced At Me, And A Half-smile Lit His Face, Inspite Of His Obvious Perturbation. "judging By The State Of Your Hair, Sassenach, I Should Say That It's Going To Rain Verra Soon Now.

This Was Nonsense, He Thought. The Need Of Her Was A Physical Thing, Like The Thirsty Of A Sailor Becalmed For Weeks On The Sea. He'd Felt The Need Before, Often, Often, In Their Years Apart. But Why Now? She Was Safe; He Knew Where She Was - Was It Only The Exhaustion Of The Past Weeks And Days, Or Perhaps The Weakness Of Creeping Age That Made His Bones Ache, As Though She Had In Fact Been Torn From His Body, As God Had Made Eve From Adam's Rib?