Your Face Is My Heart

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.

At Last I Took One Big, Callused Hand And Slid Forward So I Knelt On The Boards Between His Knees. I Laid My Head Against His Chest, And Felt His Breath Stir My Hair. I Had No Words, But I Had Made My Choice. "'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.

An Englishman Thinks A Hundred Miles Is A Long Way; And American Thinks A Hundred Years Is A Long Time

And When My Body Shall Cease, My Soul Will Still Be Yours, Claire? I Swear By My Hope Of Heaven, I Will Not Be Parted From You." The Wind Stirred The Leaves Of The Chestnut Trees Nearby, And The Scents Of Late Summer Rose Up Rich Around Us; Pine And Grass And Strawberries, Sun-warmed Stone And Cool Water, And The Sharp, Musky Smell Of His Body Next To Mine. "nothing Is Lost, Sassenach; Only Changed." "that's The First Law Of Thermodynamics," I Said, Wiping My Nose. "no," He Said. "that's Faith.

And I Mean To Hear Ye Groan Like That Again. And To Moan And Sob, Even Though You Dinna Wish To, For Ye Canna Help It. I Mean To Make You Sigh As Though Your Heart Would Break, And Scream With The Wanting, And At Last To Cry Out In My Arms, And I Shall Know That I've Served Ye Well.