Dunk the Drunk, what is it that you think you heard?
A wise King keeps his own counsel.
You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?
His body was so skeletal and his clothes so rotted that at first Bran took him for another corpse, a dead man propped up so long that the roots had grown over him, under him, and through him. What skin the corpse lord showed was white, save for a bloody blotch that crept up his neck onto his cheek.
Yet as one smell drew them onward, others warned them back. He sniffed at the drifting smoke. Men, many men, many horses, and fire, fire, fire. No smell was more dangerous, not even the hard cold smell of iron, the stuff of man- claws and hardskin. The smoke and ash clouded his eyes, and in the sky he saw a great winged snake whose roar was a river of flame. He bared his teeth, but then the snake was gone. Behind the cliffs tall fires were eating up the stars.
Every man who walks the earth casts a shadow on the world. Some are thin and weak, others long and dark. You should look behind you, Lord Snow. The moon has kissed you and etched your shadow upon the ice twenty feet tall.
No,” Ned said with sadness in his voice. “Now it ends.
Dying is easy, but victory comes hard.
That stopped her. Her cheeks turned a bright pink, and he was afraid she was about to start weeping again. Instead she thrust out her lip defiantly and said, “You’re running too.” “I am,” he confessed, “but I am running to and you are running from, and there’s a world of difference there.
Here every castle had its godswood, and every godswood had its heart tree, and every heart tree its face.
The bonds formed in boyhood can last a man for lifetime.
A broken sword can be reforged.
Fooling folk was simple as singing. Tricking folk and telling lies, it was like breathing. But this? Convincing someone of the truth that they were too twisted to see? How could you even begin?
As hard as birth can be, Brienne, what comes after is even harder. – Catelyn Stark.
Seven kingdoms could not fill the hole she left.
Ask yourself, if all men must grub in the dirt for food, how shall any man lift his eyes to contemplate the stars? If each of us must break his back to build a hovel, who shall raise the temples to glorify the gods?
There was a woman in a bed with a babe at her breast. My brother said the babe was the prince that was promised and told her to name him Aegon.
The beginning of her story is lost to us, with the memory of the world from which she sprang. The end? The end is not yet, and when it comes we shall not know it. We have only the middle, or rather a piece of that middle, the smallest part of the legend, a mere fragment of the quest.
Uncle Benjen said to send you to the stables if I saw you,” Robb finally said. “I have one more farewell to make,” Jon told him. “Then I haven’t seen you,” Robb replied.
One of those was occupied by a dwarf. Clean-shaved and pink-cheeked, with a mop of chestnut hair, a heavy brow, and a squashed nose, he perched on a high stool with a wooden spoon in hand, contemplating a bowl of purplish gruel with red-rimmed eyes. Ugly little bastard, Tyrion thought. The.