Only you. To worship ye with my body, give ye all the service of my hands. To give ye my name, and all my heart and soul with it. Only you. Because ye will not let me lie—and yet ye love me.
Blood of my blood, 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.
You are my courage, as I am your conscience. You are my heart—and I your compassion. We are neither of us whole, alone. Do ye not know that, Sassenach?
Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone.
I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One.
I give ye my Spirit, ’til our Life shall be Done.
When the day shall come, that we do part, if my last words are not ‘I love you’—ye’ll ken it was because I didna have time.
We believe the light of Christ is present in all men—though in some cases, perceiving it is somewhat difficult.
Thy life’s journey lies along its own path, Ian, and I cannot share thy journey—but I can walk beside thee. And I will.
There comes a turning point in intense physical struggle where one abandons oneself to a profligate usage of strength and bodily resource, ignoring the costs until the struggle is over. Women find this point in childbirth; men in battle.
There are things that I canna tell you, at least not yet. And I’ll ask nothing of ye that ye canna give me. But what I would ask of ye—when you do tell me something, let it be the truth. And I’ll promise ye the same. We have nothing now between us, save—respect, perhaps. And I think that respect has maybe room for secrets, but not for lies. Do ye agree?