Forgiveness Is Not A Single Act, But

I Do Know It, My Own. Let Me Tell Ye In Your Sleep How Much I Love You. For There's No So Much I Can Be Saying To Ye While Ye Wake, But The Same Poor Words, Again And Again. While Ye Sleep In My Arms, I Can Say Things To Ye That Would Be Daft And Silly Waking, And Your Dreams Will Know The Truth Of Them. Go Back To Sleep, Mo Duinne.

At Last I Took One Big, Callused Hand And Slid Forward So I Knelt On The Boards Between His Knees. I Laid My Head Against His Chest, And Felt His Breath Stir My Hair. I Had No Words, But I Had Made My Choice. "'whither Thou Goest,'" I Said. "'i Will Go; And Where Thou Lodgest, I Will Lodge: Thy People Shall Be My People, And Thy God My God: Where Thou Diest, Will I Die, And There Will I Be Buried.' Be It Scottish Hill Or Southern Forest. You Do What You Have To; I'll Be There.

He Splayed A Hand Out Over The Photographs, Trembling Fingers Not Quite Touching The Shiny Surface, And Then He Turned And Leaned Toward Me, Slowly, With The Improbable Grace Of A Tall Tree Falling. He Buried His Face In My Shoulder And Went Very Quietly And Thoroughly To Pieces.

...sitting And Waiting Is One Of The Most Miserable Occupations Known To Man - Not That It Usually Is Known To Men; Women Do It Much More Often.

While The Lord Might Insist That Vengeance Was His, No Male Highlander Of My Acquaintance Had Ever Thought It Right That The Lord Should Be Left To Handle Such Things Without Assistance.