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Book: Lord John and the Hand of Devils
Quotes of Book: Lord John and the Hand of
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  1. Diana Gabaldon _ Lord John and the Hand of

    Superstition and sensation are always so much more appealing than truth and rationality. The
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  2. Diana Gabaldon _ Lord John and the Hand of

    Fatigue and distress tended merely to sharpen Grey's fine-cut features,
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  3. Diana Gabaldon _ Lord John and the Hand of

    He could not help himself; whether it brought him comfort or misery, he felt he had no choice now but to speak of Fraser-and Quarry was the only man in London to whom he could so speak.
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  4. Diana Gabaldon _ Lord John and the Hand of

    Grey was modest about his own endowments, but also honest enough to admit that he possessed some and that his person was reasonably attractive to women.
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  5. Diana Gabaldon _ Lord John and the Hand of

    You underestimate your own merits, John-as always. Of course, nothing becomes manly virtue more than simple modesty.
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  6. Diana Gabaldon _ Lord John and the Hand of

    His heart was beating faster. Everett's perfume was his accustomed musk and myrrh; the scent of it conjured tumbled linens, and the touch of hard and knowing hands.
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  7. Diana Gabaldon _ Lord John and the Hand of

    The simple act of writing Fraser's name had given him a sense of connexion, and he realized that the desperate need for such connexion was what had driven him to write it.
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  8. Diana Gabaldon _ Lord John and the Hand of

    Slightly shorter than the common height, Grey found himself at a disadvantage in crowds.
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  9. Diana Gabaldon _ Lord John and the Hand of

    holes in his back that he
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  10. Diana Gabaldon _ Lord John and the Hand of

    He had been attacked once, in camp somewhere in Scotland, in the days after Culloden. Someone had come upon him in the dark, and taken him from behind with an arm across his throat. He had thought he was dead, but his assailant had something else in mind. The man had never spoken, and was brutally swift about his business, leaving him moments later, curled in the dirt behind a wagon, speechless with shock and pain.
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  11. Diana Gabaldon _ Lord John and the Hand of

    He had been trying to suppress the feeling Stephan roused in him, but in the end, such things were never controllable-they rose up. Sometimes like the bursting of a mortar shell, sometimes like the inexorable green spike of a crocus pushing through snow and ice-but they rose up. Was he in love with Stephan? There was no question of that. He liked and respected the Hanoverian, but there was no madness in it, no yearning. Did he want Stephan? A soft warmth in his loins, as though his blood had begun somehow to simmer over a low flame, suggested that he did.
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  12. Diana Gabaldon _ Lord John and the Hand of

    Might he ever see Jamie Fraser again? There was a good chance he would not. If chance did not kill him, cowardice might. The mania of confession was on him; best make the most of it. His quill had dried; he did not dip it again. I love you, he wrote, the strokes light and fast, making scarcely a mark upon the paper, with no ink. I wish it were not so. Then he rose, scooped up the scribbled papers, and, crushing them into a ball, threw them into the fire.
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