When you know what a man wants you know who he is, and how to move him.
The common people pray for rain, healthy children and a summer that never ends. It is no matter to them if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they are left in peace.
I was born in Bayonne, New Jersey. I grew up in the projects. I never went anywhere. But I have lived a thousand lives and I’ve loved a thousand loves. I’ve walked on distant worlds and seen the end of time. Because I read.
I do play all the characters, when I write them, one after another. If they actually had to film me, the only one I could play would be Samwell Tarly or Hot Pie.
All men are fools, if truth be told, but the ones in motley are more amusing than ones with crowns.
Ned was clad in a white linen doublet with the direwolf of Stark on the breast; his black wool cloak was fastened at the collar by his silver hand of office. Black and white and grey, all the shades of truth.
The Lord of Winterfell would always be a Stark.
A thousand deaths would still be less than he deserves.
A man could not always be where he belonged, though.
Contempt, thought Tyrion, the universal tongue.
An admiral without ships, a hand without fingers, in service of a king without a throne. Is this a knight who comes before us, or the answer to a child’s riddle?
Gods and wonders always appear, to attend the birth of kings.
The heart lies and the head plays tricks with us, but the eyes see true.
In the game of thrones, even the humblest pieces can have wills of their own. Sometimes they refuse to make the moves you’ve planned for them.
We all dream of things we cannot have.
I take no joy in mead nor meat, and song and laughter have become suspicious strangers to me. I am a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings. There is an empty place within me where my heart was once.
Some gave me soft words and some blunt, some made excuses, some promises, some only lied. In the end words are just wind.
Tyrion: My gentle sister seems to have mistaken me for Ned Stark. Bronn: I hear he was taller. Tyrion: Not after Joff took off his head.
Once, I cut off a man’s head, but he did not know it until he tried to brush his hair. Then it fell off.
Sometimes there is no happy choice, Sam, only one less grievous than the others. – Jon Snow.