......what I was born does not matter, only what I will make of myself, only what I will become.

Sometimes our best action result in things that are most regrettable.

For so many years, for so long, I have been so many things, so many different men. But here," he said, so softly I could barely hear him, "here in the dark, with you… I have no name.

D'ye think I don't know?" he asked softly. "It's me that has the easy part now. For if ye feel for me as I do for you-then I'm asking you to tear out your heart and live without it.

Blood of my Blood," he whispered, "and bone of my bone. You carry me within ye, Claire, and ye canna leave me now, no matter what happens, You are mine, always, if ye will it or no, if ye want me or nay. Mine, and I wilna let ye go.

But a man is not forgotten, as long as there are two people left under the sky. One, to tell the story; the other, to hear it.

I wouldna cross the road to see a scrawny woman if she was stark naked and dripping wet. ~Jamie Fraser