Sometimes our best actions result in things that are most regrettable.
Some say the hill is enchanted, others say it is cursed. Both are right.
Owls are keepers of the dead, but not just the dead. They’re messengers between worlds.
Once you’ve chosen a man, don’t try to change him. It can’t be done. More important—don’t let him try to change you. He can’t do it either, but men always try.
Oh, aye, Sassenach, I am your master… and you’re mine. Seems I canna possess your soul without losing my own.
No matter how ugly the manner in which a man dies, it’s only the presence of a suffering human soul that is horrifying; once gone, what is left is only an object.
Never give anything away for free—but sometimes it pays to oil the wheels a bit.
Money might not buy happiness, I reflected, but it was a useful commodity, nonetheless.
Men go where they will, they do as they must; it is not a woman’s part to bid them stay, nor yet to reproach them for being what they are—or for not coming back.
Many of the lost will be found, eventually, dead or alive. Disappearances, after all, have explanations.
Like plumbing, medicine is a profession where you learn early on not to put your fingers in your mouth.
In war, government and their armies were a threat, but it was so often the neighbors who damned or saved you.