While Ye Sleep In My Arms, I

And I Mean To Hear Ye Groan Like That Again. And To Moan And Sob, Even Though You Dinna Wish To, For Ye Canna Help It. I Mean To Make You Sigh As Though Your Heart Would Break, And Scream With The Wanting, And At Last To Cry Out In My Arms, And I Shall Know That I've Served Ye Well.

That's For Calling Your Father A Fool. It May Be True, But It's Disrespectful. Brian Fraser To Teenage Jamie

I Thought The Force Of My Wanting Must Wake Ye, Surely. And Then Ye Did Come. . ." He Stopped, Looking At Me With Eyes Gone Soft And Dark. "christ, Claire, Ye Were So Beautiful, There On The Stair, Wi' Your Hair Down And The Shadow Of Your Body With The Light Behind Ye…." He Shook His Head Slowly. "i Did Think I Should Die, If I Didna Have Ye," He Said Softly. "just Then.

He Was Dead. However, His Nose Throbbed Painfully, Which He Thought Odd In The Circumstances.

The Colors Of Living Things Begin To Fade With The Last Breath, And The Soft, Springy Skin And Supple Muscle Rot Within Weeks. But The Bones Sometimes Remain, Faithful Echoes Of The Shape, To Bear Some Last Faint Witness To The Glory Of What Was.