Was there ever a war where only one side bled?
Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used against you.
You do not steal from the dragon, oh, no. The dragon remembers.
The Gods give with one hand and take with the other.
In the end words are just wind.
No mortal man could frighten him, no more than the darkness could, nor the bones of his soul, the grey and grisly bones of his soul.
Folly and desperation are ofttimes hard to tell apart.
History is a wheel, for the nature of man is fundamentally unchanging. What has happened before will perforce happen again.
You could make a poultice out of mud to cool a fever. You could plant seeds in mud and grow a crop to feed your children. Mud would nourish you, where fire would only consume you, but fools and children and young girls would choose fire every time.
And all was black and still, and black and cold, and black and dead, and black.
My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel.
There was an agelessness about him, a stillness; on Roose Bolton’s face, rage and joy looked much the same.
Any act can be a prayer, if done as well as we are able.
Do dead man dream? The dead themselves are silent on the matter.
They were never my pack, not even Hot Pie and Gendry. I was stupid to think so, just a stupid little girl, and no wolf at all.
I’ve lost a hand, a father, a son, a sister, and a lover, and soon enough I will lose a brother. And yet they keep telling me House Lannister won this war.
Do the dead frighten you?
Speak the name, and death will come. On the morrow, at the turn of the moon, a year from this day, it will come. A man does not fly like a bird, but one foot moves and then another and one day a man is there.
Can they love without a word for it?
And the mystery knight should defeat all challengers and name the wolf maid the queen of love and beauty.