The gods are blind. And men see only what they wish.
What do you like to do?” She scuffed a toe amongst the rushes. “Needlework.
Bronn said. He was near a shadow himself; bone thin and bone hard, with black eyes and black hair and a stubble of beard.
Earth and water, soil and stone, oaks and elms and willows, they were here before us all and will still remain when we are gone.
Men may plot and plan and scheme, but they had best pray as well, for no plan ever made by man has ever withstood the whims of the gods above.
They have scarcely finished burying the dead from the last battle, and already they are practicing for the next one.
I don’t want to be a queen. I want to be the queen.
The true horrors of human history derive not from orcs and Dark Lords, but from ourselves.
When you tear out a man’s tongue, you are not proving him a liar, you’re only telling the world that you fear what he might say.
A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things.
Words are like arrows, Arianne. Once loosed, you cannot call them back. – Areo Hotah.
O medo corta mais profundamente do que as espadas.
I’m fond of all my characters so every time one doesn’t make the cut I’m a little disappointed although I understand it.
Ideas are cheap. I have more ideas now than I could ever write up. To my mind, it’s the execution that is all-important.
People often claim to hunger for truth, but seldom like the taste when it’s served up.
One of the hardest parts of writing is writing from the gut or the heart or something like that rather than intellectually.
Generally speaking, I’m much more in favour of penises entering vaginas than axes entering skulls. But the world seems to accept the violence a lot easier than the sex.
A good act does not wash out the bad, nor a bad act the good. Each should have its own reward.
Historical fiction is not history. You’re blending real events and actual historical personages with characters of your own creation.
When the sun has set, no candle can replace it.