“We've ghosts enough between us, Sassenach. If the evils of the past canna hinder us-neither then shall any fears of the future. We must just must put things behind us and get on. Aye?”

“Oh, aye, Sassenach. I am your master . . . and you're mine. Seems I canna possess your soul without losing my own.”

“You are my courage, as I am your conscience," he whispered. "You are my heart---and I your compassion. We are neither of us whole, alone. Do ye not know that, Sassenach?”

“He shook his head and squeezed my hand tight. "You are my courage, as I am your conscience," he whispered, "You are my heart-- I am your compassion. We are neither of us whole, alone. Do ye not know that, Sassenach?" --Jamie”

“Look back, hold a torch to light the recesses of the dark. Listen to the footsteps that echo behind, when you walk alone.All the time the ghosts flit past and through us, hiding in the future. We look in the mirror and see the shades of other faces looking back through the years; we see the shape of memory, standing solid in an empty doorway. By blood and by choice, we make our ghosts; we haunt ourselves.Each ghost comes unbidden from the misty grounds of dream and silence.Our rational minds say, "No, it isn't."But another part, an older part, echoes always softly in the dark, "Yes, but it could be.”

“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?”

“Jaime, you must be half-dead"He laughed tiredly, holding me close with one large warm hand on the small of my back."A lot more than half, Sassenach. I'm knackered, and my cock's the only thing too stupid to know it. I canna lie wi' ye without wanting you, but wanting's all I'm like to do.”