FORO SOBRE OUTLANDER (FORASTERA) SAGA DE LA AUTORA DIANA GABALDON: ESCOCIA, HISTORIA, AMOR, AVENTURAS.....
 
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 Diana y su Twitter

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Localización : Las Palmas (España)

MensajeTema: Diana y su Twitter   Miér Mayo 25, 2011 8:28 pm

Que tal, chicas?? Hoy mismo me encontré que Diana Gabaldon está colgando frases diarias de su nuevo libro (el que está escribiendo) y por lo que entendí, de otro llamado Scottish Prisoner (historia de lord John y Jamie en la prisión) . Algunas a mi por lo menos me dan escalofríos!! Razz
En algunas no especifica qué libro es, pero bueno, yo las pongo Rolling Eyes

...at the top was enough to make anybody sweat

...shoulder blades; the day was cool, but it was a steep climb to the top of Craigh na Dun--and the thought of what awaited them...

"Ye haven't got to come," Roger said to William Buccleigh's back. A blotch of sweat darkened the shirt between Buccleigh's ...

“Jesus!” “Yes,” said Mr. Bodley mildly. “I thought that, too. You don’t think he’s seen it?”


Seguiré informando lol!
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MensajeTema: Re: Diana y su Twitter   Jue Mayo 26, 2011 12:12 pm

Nueva tanda!

... "Is she always like this?" he asked Jamie. "Usually much worse. I think she likes ye."

"You really are a doctor," I blurted. He didn't take his eyes off what he was doing, but his mouth twitched. ...

"It was so cold out, he thought his cock might break off in his hand. If he could find it. "
--> Que porno! lol!
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MensajeTema: Re: Diana y su Twitter   Vie Mayo 27, 2011 1:35 pm

... But I am your man; I serve ye as I will."

"Ask me to your bed," he said. "I shall come to ye. For that matter--I shall come, whether ye ask it or no....

To this point, he could not really have said that he loved William. Feel the terror of responsibility for him, yes. Carry thought of him like a gem in his pocket, certainly, reaching now and then to touch it, marveling. But now he felt the perfection of the tiny bones of William’s spine through his clothes as he lifted him down, smooth as marbles under his fingers, smelled the scent of him, rich with the incense of innocence and the faint tang of shit and clean linen. And thought his heart would break with love of the boy
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MensajeTema: Re: Diana y su Twitter   Vie Jun 10, 2011 5:50 pm

"We sat in the kitchen, both because I didn't want to sit in the parlor gazing out at the devastation in the foyer, and so that Mrs. Figg could keep an eye on her terrapin stew.
"You don' t want to scorch turtle, no you don't," she said severely to us, setting down the teapot. "Not with so much sherry as his lordship likes. Almost a full bottle--terrible waste of good liquor, that would be."
My insides turned over promptl.y Turtle soup--with a lot of sherry--had certain strong and private associations for me, these being connected with Jamie, feverish delirium, and the way in which a heaving ship assists sexual intercourse."


“Do you know where he is?” Grey asked quietly, and Fraser shook his head.
“I wouldna tell ye if I did,” he said, just as quietly. “But I don’t.”
“Would you warn him—if you could?” Grey asked. He oughtn’t, but was possessed by curiosity.
“I would,” Fraser replied without hesitation. He turned round now, and looked down at Grey, expressionless. “He was once my friend.”
So was I, Grey thought, and took more brandy. "

“Advice? You’re too old to be given it, and too young to take it.” He glanced aside at William, his face very like Papa’s. Thinner, older, dark brows beginning to beetle, but with that same rueful humor in the corners of his eyes. “I can tell you what your choices are.”
“Do that,” William said, very dry. “In case I’ve missed one out.”
“Thought of blowing your brains out?”
William blinked, startled.
“No.”
“That’s good. Anything else is bound to be an improvement, isn’t it?”


“You asked me to, did ye not?” Fraser gave him a look of mild exasperation. “Ye were bleeding like a stuck hog, but it wasna spurting out and I could feel ye breathing and your heart beating all right while I carried ye back to the coach.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Grey sat down, momentarily overwhelmed at the mental picture of himself in the big Scot’s arms, cradled against his chest. Damn it, couldn’t he have waited a few moments longer to pass out?

"The floor under his feet vibrated and he could feel the knobs on his backbone knocking against the wall as it shook from the weight of the water rushing through the dam under him. Tons of water, Mummy said. Tons and tons and tons of black dark water, all around him, under him…if the wall or the floor broke, it—"

“I think when it comes to charity, you can’t really look farther than the generosity and intent of the giver; the ultimate result is always beyond your power to predict, let alone control. And Agnes is as much a force of nature as--” He’d been going to say, “—as you are yourself,” but stopped in time, substituting “—as a hurricane or a crocodile.”

“You’ve got a big willy, uncle John,” Adam observed.
“About the usual for a grown man, I think. Though I believe it’s given fairly general satisfaction.”


“You’ll what?” he asked, half-breathless. “You’re a Quaker. You don’t believe in violence. Ergo, you can’t—or at least won’t—“ he corrected himself, seeing the dangerous look in her eye, “—shoot me. You probably won’t even strike me. So what did you have in mind?”

"I had to be mistaken. That was my first conscious thought, stubbornly articulated, each word spoken aloud inside my mind, each word set in place like a little pile of stones, the first foundation of a bulwark. You. Are. Mistaken.
But I wasn't. My skin knew that. It rippled, a live thing, hairs rising in recoil, in vain defense, for what could skin do to keep such things out?"


"All three boys nodded solemnly, like a nestful of owls, but then demanded more details of the duel, eager to hear how much blood there had been, how many times Uncle John had stuck the bad fellow, and what they had said to each other.
“Did he call you vile names and utter foul oaths?” asked Benajamin.
“Foul oafs,” Henry murmured happily to himself. “Foul oafs, foul oafs.”

"There was a sudden rattle, like pebbles thrown against glass. Shots, he thought, and flung himself over in a heavy swash of awkward, sopping clothes, able at last to get a purchase and crawl toward shore on hands and knees.
Single shots now, an irregular pop-pop! Pop! Could they see him and Tom, or were they firing at random to make a show? Tom got him by the arm and hoisted him onto the shore like a harpooned turtle."


"She went in before him, and threw open the shutters. He wanted to tell her to close them; he felt wretchedly exposed in the flood of sunlight. But it was summer; the room was hot and airless, and he was already sweating heavily. Air swirled in, heavy with the odor of tree-sap, and the sun glowed briefly on the smooth top of her head, like the gloss on a fresh conker. She turned and smiled at him."

"His heart rose in spite of his anxiety, when he came to the top of the pass and saw Lallybroch below him, its white-harled buildings glowing in the fading light. Everything lay peaceful before him; late cabbages and turnips in orderly rows within the kailyard walls, safe from grazing sheep—there was a small flock in the far meadow, already bedding for the night, like so many wooly eggs in a nest of bright green grass, like a kid’s Easter-basket.
The thought caught at his throat, with memories of the horrible cellophane grass that got everywhere, Mandy with her face—and everything else within six feet of her—smeared with chocolate, Jem carefully writing “Dad” on a hardboiled egg with a white crayon, then frowning over the array of dye-cups, trying to decide whether blue or purple was more Dad-like."


"“It’s Dr. John Hunter,” Grey said, nodding at the surgeon, whom he was regarding narrowly. “The Body-Snatcher himself.” He caught his lower lip in his teeth for a moment, then turned to Jamie.
“If I’m killed, you take my body from the field. Take me home. Under no circumstances let Dr. Hunter anywhere near me.”

"Jem's hands were sweating. He let go of the metal cab and scrubbed both hands on his jeans. Now he could hear himself breathing, too.
"Crap," he whispered under his breath. That made him feel better, so he said it again. Maybe he ought to be praying, instead, but he didn't feel like that, not yet."


"“Pity it’s not his sword-arm,” muttered Quarry. “That would end it.”
“Nothing will end this but death,” said Captain Honey. The young man was white to the lips, and Jamie wondered briefly if he’d ever seen a man killed before."

"William Ransom, ninth earl of Ellesmere, viscount Ashness, [etc.] shoved his way through the crowds on Broad Street, oblivious to the complaints of those rebounding from his impact.
He didn’t know where he was going, or what he might do when he got there. All he knew was that he’d burst if he stood still. His head felt like an inflamed boil."


"He’d once seen Minnie’s cook take a sharpened spoon and cut the flesh of a melon out in little balls. He felt as though each of Bowles’s words had been a jab of that spoon, slicing out neat little chunks of his heart and bowels, one at a time, scraping him to the rind."

"“I didna mean to imply that I think ye a drunkard, Sassenach,” he said, making an obvious effort to sound serious. “It’s only that ye think wi’ your body, Claire; ye always have.”

"There was a brief sigh, then big hands took him by the arms and lifted him bodily to his feet.
“Come wi’ me,” Fraser said quietly. “Walk. It will be easier to say what’s happened, walking.”
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MensajeTema: Re: Diana y su Twitter   Mar Ago 09, 2011 7:58 pm

Toma con lo que as escrito,pero no entiendo nada haber si un dia con tiempo lo miro Very Happy
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