SORT OF SIGNS
"D'ye believe in signs at all, Sassanach?"
"What sort of signs?" I asked guardedly.
In answer he bent, plucked a sprig from the ground, and dropped it into my hand - the dark green leaves like small round Chinese fans, a pure white flower on a slender stem, and on another a half-ripe berry, its' shoulders pale with shade, blushing crimson at the tip."
-Diana Gabaldon
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