–it was different. I saw how they looked at each other. I never saw her look at Frank Randall that way – or him at her.” “Ah, yes.” A small gust of bleakness swept through him. He’d seen that look once or twice. “Do you know how rare such a thing is?” he asked quietly. “That peculiar sort of mutual passion?” The one-sided one was common enough. “Yes.” she had half turned, her arm along the back of the love seat…”The thing is – I think I had it,” she said, even more quietly. “For a little while. A very little while.” She turned her head and looked at him, with eyes that let him see clear through her. “If I’ve lost it – then I have. I can live with that – or without it. But I won’t live with an imitation of it. I couldn’t stand that. ― Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn

–it was different. I saw how they looked at each other. I never saw her look at Frank Randall that way – or him at her.” “Ah, yes.” A small gust of bleakness swept through him. He’d seen that look once or twice. “Do you know how rare such a thing is?” he asked quietly. “That peculiar sort of mutual passion?” The one-sided one was common enough. “Yes.” she had half turned, her arm along the back of the love seat…”The thing is – I think I had it,” she said, even more quietly. “For a little while. A very little while.” She turned her head and looked at him, with eyes that let him see clear through her. “If I’ve lost it – then I have. I can live with that – or without it. But I won’t live with an imitation of it. I couldn’t stand that.
― Diana Gabaldon,

Drums of Autumn

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