We Have Nothing Now Between Us, Save

I Prayed All The Way Up That Hill Yesterday, He Said Softly. Not For You To Stay; I Didna Think That Would Be Right. I Prayed I'd Be Strong Enough To Send Ye Away. He Shook His Head, Still Gazing Up The Hill, A Faraway Look In His Eyes. I Said 'lord, If I've Never Had Courage In My Life Before, Let Me Have It Now. Let Me Be Brave Enough Not To Fall On My Knees And Beg Her To Stay.' He Pulled His Eyes Away From The Cottage And Smiled Briefly At Me. Hardest Thing I Ever Did, Sassenach.

Men Would Eat Horse Droppings, If Ye Served Them Wi' Butter.

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?

People Assume That Science Is A Very Cold Sort Of Profession, Whereas Writing Novels Is A Warm And Fuzzy Intuitive Thing. But In Fact, They Are Not At All Different.

But Just Then, For That Fraction Of Time, It Seems As Though All Things Are Possible. You Can Look Across The Limitations Of Your Own Life, And See That They Are Really Nothing. In That Moment When Time Stops, It Is As Though You Know You Could Undertake Any Venture, Complete It And Come Back To Yourself, To Find The World Unchanged, And Everything Just As You Left It A Moment Before. And It's As Though Knowing That Everything Is Possible, Suddenly Nothing Is Necessary.