Highland Outlaw Quotes

Her mouth was right on his ear, and she spoke her wicked thoughts aloud. "I want you inside me."
That was it. With a violent growl, he snapped. "Damn you, Elizabeth. ~ Monica McCarty

It seemed she would not be able to ignore her duty; it had just arrived. ~ Monica McCarty

His kiss was brutal, punishing, for making him feel like this. He was
desperate. Out of control. Never had he experienced this kind of irrational
urgency. He needed her. Like a starving man needed food. Like a dying man
needed salvation. Now. Before everything went to hell. Before she could change her mind. ~ Monica McCarty

His mouth slid over her jaw and down her throat, her skin as smooth
and sweet as cream. "God, you taste incredible," he murmured, his tongue
sliding a teasing path along the edge of her bodice. "I want to lick every inch of you. ~ Monica McCarty

Her eyes heated with the anger and hurt that had been held inside her
for too long. "Your trips to the village have not gone unnoticed."
A look of confusion crossed his too-handsome face. "What does my
going to the village have to do with us?"
"I know there are women
"
He swore and gripped her arm, jerked her up against his chest. "Who
put such nonsense in your head?"
She didn't say anything, her throat hot and tight from the ball of tears
constricting it.
"Finlay," he said flatly. She looked at him in surprise. " 'Tis no secret
that he despises me, but I am surprised that you listened to his venom."
"It's not too difficult to believe. You are a man."
"Aye," he said softly. "But I've not had another woman, Elizabeth."
Her heart faltered. Her eyes shot to his, not daring to believe ... He
cradled her cheek tenderly in his big hand.
"How can I when I want someone else?"
He hasn't been with a woman ... he wants me. ~ Monica McCarty

The next morning dawned cool and clear. The early mist had lifted, leaving a thick layer of dew clinging to the hillsides beyond the castle, shimmering in the morning sun like faerie dust sprinkled over a lush bed of emerald.
Like his eyes. ~ Monica McCarty

Her body sighed, taking him in as if she'd been waiting for this her
whole life.
Perhaps she had. ~ Monica McCarty

Again.
Apparently, three broken engagements weren't enough. It was her duty to marry, and marry she must. ~ Monica McCarty

You want to know what's wrong?" He took her chin, forcing her to look at him. She could feel the angry pounding of his heart through the soft leather of his jerkin. "I'll tell you what's wrong. I want you so bad, I can't
think straight. My body is on fire. I can't look at you without wanting to pull you into my arms. I can't touch you without thinking of running my hands
all over you." Her eyes widened. The raw desire in his gaze shocked her.
Never had she thought herself capable of driving a man to such extreme
passion. "But that is only half the problem." His eyes had narrowed to slits, the lines around his mouth etched white. The dark stubble of his beard cast an ominous shadow along his hard, square jaw.
Whatever the problem, it didn't bode well for her. She tried to pull away, for the first time truly frightened, but he wouldn't let her go. His arms
were like steel.
"You want to know what's really wrong, Elizabeth?" His face was only inches from hers. "I saw you kiss him." He spoke each word with damning precision. ~ Monica McCarty

Thief, brigand, outlaw, scourge: Those were names he was familiar with, not hero. Yet for a moment, this wee lass could make him want to believe that it was a possibility. Make him believe that there might be a flicker left in the embers of his blackened soul. That maybe there was still something inside him that hadn't died.
He regretted that one day soon he would have to prove her wrong. ~ Monica McCarty

Why was she doing this to herself? She was too young to be locked away in this grim castle, weighed down with responsibility that was not hers
to shoulder. She should be at parties, being feted, dancing, and enjoying
herself. Or be surrounded by bairns. My bairns, he thought fiercely. ~ Monica McCarty

A wave of possessiveness came over him, almost frightening in its
intensity. Mine. The thought of another man looking at her was almost
enough to make him change his mind about leaving. ~ Monica McCarty

Today the most outlaw thing you can possibly do in Nashville, Tennessee, is play country music. ~ Marty Stuart

I love you, Catherine. You claimed my heart soon after we met, a beautiful Highland selkie who kept me safe within her cave. No one ever came to my rescue before. I laughed and I teased you, but I'd never been so deeply moved. While I was waiting at The Hague, I promised myself I'd tell you as soon as I saw you again." He wet a taut nipple with his tongue and blew on it gently. "It made me very happy to admit it. You're the only one I've ever truly loved." He turned his attention to the other tip, one hand plumping her as the other tickled its peak. She whimpered and he soothed her with a wet kiss. She moaned, gripping his shoulders as her heels dug in the ground. He lifted his
head and looked straight into her eyes. "I feared I'd lost you when I saw you in that river. You're the only thing that gives my life meaning, Catherine. I love you." His lips brushed the corner of her mouth. "I love you," he breathed against her lips. "I love you!" He enfolded her in his arms and
thrust his tongue deep in her mouth, claiming her in a voluptuous kiss. ~ Judith James

All the London ton acknowledged Scotland as a barbaric place. The packs there cared very little for the social niceties of daytime folk. Highland werewolves had a reputation for doing atrocious and highly unwarranted things, like wearing smoking jackets to the dinner table. Lyall shivered at the delicious horror of the very idea. ~ Gail Carriger

Watch your thoughts, for your thought become words, watch your words, for your words become actions. Watch your actions, for your actions become habits. Watch your habits, for your habits become character, watch your character, for it becomes destiny. ~ Frank Outlaw

As every languageless, stateless, selfless nation has one last, twisted image of its worst and best, we have the ceilidh. Here we pretend we are Highland, pretend we have mysteries in our work, pretend we have work. We forget our record of atrocities wherever we have been made masters and become comfortable servants again. Our present and our past creep in to change each other and we feel angry and sad and Scottish. Perhaps we feel free. ~ A. L. Kennedy

Congress has mandated an annual report on street gang, outlaw biker, and domestic extremist activity in the military since 2008. ~ Carter F. Smith

On her head perched a pillbox hat with an absurd little veil. She'd pulled the dotted veil up out of her eyes, but not completely - it hung lopsidedly, dangling over her right brow. Her dark brown dress was filmed with dust she'd raised, and dust caught on her damp cheeks. One lock of hair had escaped her coiffure, a red snake dancing down her bodice. She was delightfully mussed, and dear God, he wanted her. ~ Jennifer Ashley

Accidents happen. I will, um ... I will pay to have your house rebuilt."
"And my barn?" a woman called out.
Liam sighed. "Yes, and your barn, too."
"And my golden carousel?" shouted another man. "Will you pay for that?"
Liam raised an eyebrow. "The giant smashed your golden carousel?"
"No," said the man. "I'd just like to have a golden carousel. ~ Christopher Healy

You had better all die - die immediately, than live as slaves and entail your wretchedness upon your posterity. ~ Henry Highland Garnet

An overweight Maine coon cat dozed in an open bedroom window, his bulk pressed against the screen so that the gentle breeze of the summer night could ruffle his long yellow fur. With a start, he went on alert. A moment later, he leapt from the windowsill to the top of the dresser and from there to the foot of the bed. He landed squarely on Liss MacCrimmon Ruskin's bare legs. ~ Kaitlyn Dunnett

He stepped into the morning feeling more alive than he'd felt in months. Hold fast and believe in me, love, he
whispered across the centuries. Because love and belief were serious magic in and of themselves. ~ Karen Marie Moning

I loved county fairs in the South. It was hard to believe that anything could be so consistently cheap and showy and vulgar year after year. each year I thought that at least one class act would force its way into a booth or sideshow, but I was always mistaken. The lure of the fair was the perfect harmony of its joyous decadence, its burned-out dishonored vulgarity, its riot of colors and smells, its jangling, tawdry music, and its wicked glimpse into the outlaw life of hucksters, tattoo parlors, monstrous freaks, and strippers. ~ Pat Conroy

Here I first mounted a little Highland steed; and if there had been many spectators, should have been somewhat ashamed of my figure in the march. The horses of the Islands, as of other barren countries, are very low: they are indeed musculous and strong, beyond what their size gives reason for expecting; but a bulky man upon one of their backs makes a very disproportionate appearance. ~ Samuel Johnson

My past is no secret to anyone. I'm a blackguard and a sinner, and everyone knows it. These days, that's almost an asset to being a politician. ~ Jennifer Ashley

Into no other city does the sight of the country enter so far; if you do not meet a butterfly, you shall certainly catch a glimpse of far-away trees upon your walk; and the place is full of theatre tricks in the way of scenery. You peep under an arch, you descend stairs that look as if they would land you in a cellar, you turn to the back-window of a grimy tenement in a lane: - and behold! you are face-to-face with distant and bright prospects. You turn a corner, and there is the sun going down into the Highland hills. You look down an alley, and see ships tacking for the Baltic. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

Now let's get talking: reefer madness. Like some arrogant government can't, By any stretch of the imagination, outlaw a plant. ~ Ani DiFranco

The Soviet Union has long been proposing to outlaw chemical weapons, to remove them from the arsenals of states. We are prepared for resolution of this problem either on a global basis or piece by piece. As one of the first steps the USSR and the other socialist countries proposed in January 1984 that agreement be reached on ridding Europe of all types of chemical weapons. ~ Konstantin Chernenko

An outlaw gulch, a haven for draft resisters, struggling artists, and drug addicts ... a camp for semi-demented adults ... Venice is like the legendary Phoenix - it always seems to rise again from the ashes. ~ Sara Davidson

It is not in becoming a whore that a woman becomes an outlaw in this man's world; it is in the possession of herself, the ownership and effective control of her own body, her seperateness and distinctness, the integrity of her body as hers, not his. Prostitution may be against the written law, but no prostitute has defied the prerogatives or power of men as a class through prostitution. No prostitute provides any model for freedom or action in a world of freedom that can be used with intelligence and integrity by a woman; the model exists to entice counterfeit female sexual revolutionaries, gullible liberated girls, and to serve the men who enjoy them. ~ Andrea Dworkin

The outlaw, the revolutionary, the cabbalist or member of a secret society, indeed heretics of all kinds are of a highly associative if not sociable disposition, and a certain element of play is prominent in all their doings. ~ Johan Huizinga

Being an artist means belonging to a unique, exciting gang of outlaws. ~ Robert Venosa

I wasn't trying to be an outlaw writer. I never heard of that term; somebody else made it up. But we were all outside the law: Kerouac, Miller, Burroughs, Ginsberg, Kesey; I didn't have a gauge as to who was the worst outlaw. I just recognized allies: my people. ~ Hunter S. Thompson

My favorite instrument is the snare drum. In Scotland, the snare drum is very prominent in Highland bands. The Scottish style of playing is in my blood. It's a very powerful instrument, but it can also be soothing, like velvet. It's a real challenge for composers. ~ Evelyn Glennie

The smile, the look, tugged at Eleanor's heart. Even in the fleeting glance, she'd seen great love in Ian's eyes, his determination to finish this letter and send it to Beth so she could enjoy decoding it. A way to tell her sweet nothings that no one else could understand. Private thoughts, shared between husband and wife. ~ Jennifer Ashley

Obviously people's feelings are going to get hurt when you use certain words, but you can't outlaw words. They're really the history of our culture. They tell you what's going on. When you make words politically incorrect you're taking all the poetry out of the language. I'm pro anybody living their lives the way they want to live, sexually and otherwise; and I'm anti any kind of language repression. ~ David Duchovny

She liked a very particular kind of plot: the sort where the pirate kidnaps some virgin damsel, rapes her into loving him, and then dispatches lots of seamen while she polishes his cutlass. Or where the Highland clan leader kidnaps some virginal English Rose, rapes her into loving him, and then kills entire armies Sassenachs while she stuffs his haggis. Or where the Native American warrior kidnaps a virginal white settler, rapes her into loving him, and then kills a bunch of colonists while she whets his tomahawk. I hated to get Freudian on Linda, but her reading patterns suggested some interesting insight into why she is such a bitch. ~ Nicole Peeler

Robin Hood. To a Friend.

No! those days are gone away,
And their hours are old and gray,
And their minutes buried all
Under the down-trodden pall
Ofthe leaves of many years:
Many times have winter's shears,
Frozen North, and chilling East,
Sounded tempests to the feast
Of the forest's whispering fleeces,
Since men knew nor rent nor leases.

No, the bugle sounds no more,
And the twanging bow no more;
Silent is the ivory shrill
Past the heath and up the hill;
There is no mid-forest laugh,
Where lone Echo gives the half
To some wight, amaz'd to hear
Jesting, deep in forest drear.

On the fairest time of June
You may go, with sun or moon,
Or the seven stars to light you,
Or the polar ray to right you;
But you never may behold
Little John, or Robin bold;
Never one, of all the clan,
Thrumming on an empty can
Some old hunting ditty, while
He doth his green way beguile
To fair hostess Merriment,
Down beside the pasture Trent;
For he left the merry tale,
Messenger for spicy ale.

Gone, the merry morris din;
Gone, the song of Gamelyn;
Gone, the tough-belted outlaw
Idling in the "grene shawe";
All are gone away and past!
And if Robin should be cast
Sudden from his turfed grave,
And if Marian should have
Once again her forest days,
She would weep, and he wou ~ John Keats

California, Labor Day weekend...early, with ocean fog still in the streets, outlaw motorcyclists wearing chains, shades and greasy Levis roll out from damp garages, all-night diners and cast-off one-night pads in Fricso, Hollywood, Berdoo and East Oakland, heading for the Monterey peninsula, north of Big Sur...The Menace is loose again, the Hell's Angels, the hundred-carat headline, running fast and loud on the early morning freeway, low in the saddle, nobody smiles, jamming crazy through traffic and ninety miles an hour down the center stripe, missing by inches...like Genghis Khan on an iron horse, a monster steed with a fiery anus, flat out through the eye of a beer can and up your daughter's leg with no quarter asked and non given; show the squares some class, give em a whiff of those kicks they'll never know...Ah, these righteous dudes, they love to screw it on...Little Jesus, the Gimp, Chocolate George, Buzzard, Zorro, Hambone, Clean Cut, Tiny, Terry the Tramp, Frenchy, Mouldy Marvin, Mother Miles, Dirty Ed, Chuck the Duck, Fat Freddy, Filthy Phil, Charger Charley the Child Molester, Crazy Cross, Puff, Magoo, Animal and at least a hundred more...tense for the action, long hair in the wind, beards and bandanas flapping, earrings, armpits, chain whips, swastikas and stripped-down Harleys flashing chrome as traffic on 101 moves over, nervous, to let the formation pass like a burst of dirty thunder... ~ Hunter S. Thompson

There are four characteristics which brand a country unmistakably as a dictatorship: one-party rule, executions without trial or with a mock trial for political offenses, the nationalization or expropriation of private property, and censorship. A country guilty of these outrages forfeits any moral prerogatives, any claim to national rights or sovereignty, and becomes an outlaw. ~ Ayn Rand

I myself am not comfortable with the notion of secularists congregating in groups, except perhaps for defensive purposes: the last thing a secularist should wish to do is to act like a religion, with its rigid hierarchies, its suppression of divergent opinion, and, above all, its ruthless attempts (now mercifully inhibited by laws) to outlaw "heresy" by brute force. Opinions must be changed, one at a time if necessary, but if there are those who wish to persist in religious belief, they should certainly be allowed to do so. ~ S.T. Joshi

In my writing classes, I don't outlaw any genre writing. ~ Leni Zumas

Celebrations, for me, have always been where celibacy meets masturbation. ~ Gordon Highland

Dear Mr. Duke,

As requested, here is an inventory of the animals in my care:

*Bixby, a two-legged terrier.
*Marigold, a nanny goat of unimpeachable character, who is definitely not breeding.
*Angus, a three-year-old Highland steer.
*Regan, Goneril, and Cordelia- laying hens.
*Delilah, a parrot.
*Hubert, an otter.
*Freya, a hedgehog.
*Thirteen kittens of varying colors and dispositions.


Gabe leafed through the report in disbelief. It went on for pages. She'd given not only the names, breeds, and ages of every misbegotten creature, but she'd appended a chart of temperaments, sleeping schedules, preferred bedding, and a list of dietary requirements that would beggar a moderately successful tradesman. Along with the expected hay, alfalfa, corn, and seed, the animals required several pounds of mince weekly, daily pints of fresh cream, and an ungodly number of sardines.
The steer and thee goat, she insisted, must go to the same loving home. Apparently they were tightly bonded, whatever that meant, and refused to eat of parted.
The laying hens did not actually lay with any regularity. Their previous owners had grown frustrated with this paltry production, and thus they had come into Her Ladyship's care.
And the lucky bastard who accepted a ten-year-old hedgehog? Well, he must not only provide a steady supply of mealworms, but remain ever mindful of certain "traumatic experiences in her youth. ~ Tessa Dare

I think of poets as outlaw visionaries in a way. ~ Jim Jarmusch

Hart pointed at the carriage. "Get in."
Eleanor started, and the cake vendor, who'd been watching with evident enjoyment, looked worried. "No need," Eleanor said to Hart. "I'll find a hansom. I've brought Maigdlin an I have so many parcels."
"Get into the carriage, El, or I'll strap you to the top of it."
Eleanor rolled her eyes and took another bite of seedcake. ~ Jennifer Ashley