He wasn't a whole person any longer, but only half of something not yet made.

— Diana Gabaldon

Ian, man, I Diana tell ye because I Diana wish to lose you too. My brother was gone, and my father. I Diana mean to lose my own heart's blood as well. For you are dearer to me even than home and family, love.' She cast a lopsided smile at Jamie. 'And that's saying quite a bit.

— Diana Gabaldon

If I die," he whispered in the dark, "Diana follow me. The bairns will need ye. Stay for them. I can wait.

— Diana Gabaldon

If she was broken, she would slash him with her jagged edges, reckless as a drunkard with a shattered bottle.

— Diana Gabaldon

If there’s true emotional content in a situation between characters, all you do is reveal it.

— Diana Gabaldon

If you can’t look a line of dialogue in the face and say exactly why it’s there—take it out or change it.

— Diana Gabaldon

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.

— Diana Gabaldon

I had not slept with many men other than my husband, but I noticed before that to sleep, actually sleep with someone did give this sense of intimacy, as though your dreams had flowed out of you to mingle with his and fold you both in a blanket of unconsciousness knowing. A throwback of some kind, I thought. In older, more primitive times, it was an act of trust to sleep in the presence of another person. If the trust was mutual, simple sleep could bring you closer together than joining the bodies.

— Diana Gabaldon

I had not slept with many men other than my husband, but I noticed before that to sleep, actually sleep with someone did give this sense of intimacy, as though your dreams had flowed out of you to mingle with his and fold you both in a blanket of unconsciousness knowing. A throwback of some kind, I thought. In older, more primitive times, it was an act of trust to sleep in the presence of another person. If the trust was mutual, simple sleep could bring you closer together than the joining of bodies.

— Diana Gabaldon

I heard you went to Ireland... I haven't seen it in many years. Is it still green then, and beautiful? Wet as a bath sponge and mud to the knees but, aye, it was green enough.

— Diana Gabaldon