Jamie: Ten good men would be worth a finger, Sassenach. Or five, or even one. [falls asleep]
Claire: You’re bloody mad. I knew you’d make me cry.

The subject is your stupid hero complex. Do you think I have nothing better to do than trotting after you, sticking pieces back on?

Claire: You'll come back to me. You always do. And if you don't, I'll come looking for you.
Jamie: I ken you will, Sessenach.

Jamie: Will ye kiss me, Claire?
Claire: Always.

Claire: May I ask? How did you know who I was?
Lieutenant: He’s said you’d be the curly wig giving orders like a sergeant major.

William: You’re a rebel.
Claire: Yes, my husband is a colonel in the militia. We were separated, and I was captured.

Jamie: Is that brandy? Where’d you get it?
Claire: Your son. He gave it to me.

Tom: The Lord does answer prayers, you know.
Claire: What did you pray for?
Tom: You are a most uncomfortable woman.

Claire: I wasn’t prepared to join a war tonight. Neither were you. And I won’t let you go without me. They’ll need doctors.
Ian: I’m comin’ with ye too, uncle.
Jamie: No, lad. Sail home to Scotland. I made a promise to your mother.
Ian: You promised we’d return someday, and we will. I love this land. I want to fight for it.

Claire: We will make it back here one day, won’t we?
Jamie: I never thought I’d see bonny Scotland again. Tis that’s where we’re bound, so aye, we will.
Claire: Jamie, you will always be enough.

Claire: Goodbye, Lizzie.
Lizzie: Maybe if the bairn’s a girl, I’ll name her Claire to keep from missing you too much.

Claire: Well, it’s not January.
Jamie: Nay. And we’re not dead. So much for our obituary.
Claire: Bloody newspapers. Never get anything right.