Kilts Quotes

“Any self respecting Scot knows that a good tartan is the solution to everything: it tells you where you are, where you belong, who your friends and family are. Forget the Vikings: those guys just can"t hold a candle to a delicious battle-weary warrior whose fighting skills and wicked sex appeal have spawned a thousand Scottish heartthrobs.”
― Trisha Telep, The Mammoth Book of Scottish Romance

“Iain MacGregor,” she whispered longingly, looking up. The woods were quiet. Strips of moonlight shone through tree limbs that reached like surreal black fingertips across her vision. A single tear slid down her cheek. She touched her mouth, imagining his kiss.
Taking a small pocket knife out of her cargo pants, she looked about. A mystic had once told her that if she left pieces of herself around while she lived, it would expand her haunting territory when she died. Jane wasn’t sure she believed in sideshow magic tricks—or the Old Magick as the mystic had spelled it on her sign. She had no idea what had possessed her to talk to the palm reader and ask about ghosts. Still, just in case, she was leaving her stamp all over the woods.
She cut her palm and pressed it to a nearby tree under a branch. Holding the wound to the rough bark stung at first, but then it made her feel better. This forest wouldn’t be a bad eternity.
The sound of running feet erupted behind her and she stiffened. No one ever came out here at night. She’d walked the woods hundreds of times. Her mind instantly went to the creepy girl ghosts chanting by the stream.
“Whoohoo!”
Jane whipped around, startled as a streak of naked flesh sprinted past her. The Scottish voice was met with loud cheers from those who followed him. “Water’s this way, lads, or my name isn’t Raibeart MacGregor, King of the Highlands!”
Another naked man dashed through the forest after him. “It smells of freedom.”
Jane stayed hidden in the branches, undetected, with her hand pressed to the bark.
“Aye, freedom from your proper Cait,” Raibeart answered, his voice coming through the dark where he’d disappeared into the trees.
“Murdoch, stop him before he reaches town. Cait will not teleport ya out of jail again,” a third man yelled, not running quite so fast. “Raibeart, ya are goin’ the wrong way!”
“Och, Angus, my Cait canna live without me,” Murdoch, the second streaker, answered. “She’ll always come to my rescue.”
“I said stop him, Murdoch, we’re new to this place.” Angus skidded to a stop and lifted his jaw, as if sensing he was being watched. He looked in her direction and instantly covered his manhood as his eyes caught Jane’s shocked face in the tree limbs. “Oh, lassie.”
“Oh, naked man,” Jane teased before she could stop herself.
“That I am,” Angus answered, “but there is an explanation for it.”
“I don’t think some things need explained,” Jane said.”
― Michelle M. Pillow, Spellbound

“Of course ya love me. I'm very loveable.”
― Michelle M. Pillow, Spellbound

“Ya smell like honey," he said.
"I'm allergic to bees," she whispered.
"I'll do my best not to sting ya, love.”
― Michelle M. Pillow, Spellbound

“Angus skidded to a stop and lifted his jaw as if sensing he was being watched. He looked in her direction and instantly covered his manhood as his eyes caught Jane's shocked face in the tree limbs. "Oh, lassie."
"Oh, naked man," Jane teased before she could stop herself.”
― Michelle M. Pillow, Spellbound

“For ya, love, I will be anything ya want... even a potato.”
― Michelle M. Pillow, Spellbound

“I don't want to move out of bed."
"I don't want to move out of bed either. Let's live here.”
― Michelle M. Pillow, Spellbound

“Kilts for men is an elegant choice for men due to its formal, traditional and casual look. Mens kilts for sale provides a high level of comfort.”
― prime kilt

“While the native Americans certainly rolled up in their thousands... there is no doubt in my mind that the exiled Scots in the States had more to do with my success than many people imagined. The expatriated Caledonians sure rallied to my support during my earlier trips to Dollar-land. Not only so, they turned up at my shows in all manner of Scottish costumes in kilts, with Barmoral bonnets, wearing tartan ties. And many of them brought their bagpipes with them. They imparted an enthusiastic atmosphere to my appearances everywhere; their weird shouts and 'hoochs' and skirls provided good copy for the journalists, and next-day talking points for the natives. In the first twenty weeks I spent in the States I must have met personally ten thousand people who claimed acquaintance with me... I shook hands with them all... and presented signed postcards to one at least out of every fifty!”
― Harry Lauder, Roamin' in the Gloamin'

“I like the thought of a Scots Republic with Scots Border Guards in saffron kilts - the thought of those kilts can awake me to joy in the middle of the night. I like the thought of Miss Wendy Wood leading a Scots Expeditionary Force down to Westminster the reclaim the Scone Stone: I would certainly march with that expedition myself in spite of the risk of dying of laughter by the way. I like the thought of a Scots Catholic kingdom with Mr. Compton Mackenzie Prime Minister to some disinterred Jacobite royalty, and all the Scots intellectuals settled out on the land on thirty-acre crofts, or sent to St Kilda for the good of their souls and the nation (except the hundreds streaming over the border in panic flight at sight of the Scotland of their dreams).”
― Lewis Grassic Gibbon, Scottish Scene: or, The Intelligent Man's Guide to Albyn

“A kilt isn’t just cloth—it’s a story woven in tartan, worn with pride.”
― Haider Ali Bajwa

“A kilt is more than fabric—it’s a love letter to tradition, stitched with the tenderness of history and worn with the devotion of a lover’s embrace. Each pleat whispers tales of Scotland’s rugged hills, each tartan thread a vow to honor the past. For me, crafting kilts at Liberty Kilts is an act of love: a dance of hands and heart, weaving pride into every fold, so when you wear one, you feel the warmth of heritage hugging your soul.”
― Haider Ali Shahid

“They bind me tae a woman I dinna want, tae a name I dinna ken. A stranger tae claim ma hearth an’ ma life like a thief in the night. ’Tis a curse, Fergus. An’ I hate it. I hate it wi’ every breath in me.”
― Kimber H. Kinkaid