Spare me, he begged. I do not want to die. Few do. Yet all men die, regardless.
Some would fight for any cause, some for none at all.
Some people hurt others just because they can.
Some men are like swords, made for fighting. Hang them and they go to rust.
Some lights cast more than one shadow. Stand before the nightfire and you’ll see for yourself. The flames shift and dance, never still. The shadows grow tall and short, and every man casts a dozen. So...
So go to sleep, my little Brandon, my baby boy. You needn’t fear. There are no monsters here.
So be it. I'll wear my iron and hold my tongue. A man who won't listen can't hear.
Sins may be forgiven. Crimes require punishment.
She would be no one if that was what it took. No one had no holes inside her.
She stalked off into the trees, wishing she could just saddle her horse and ride home. She was a good horse, a chestnut mare with a white blaze on her forehead. She could gallop off and never see any...
She remembered a tale she had heard from Old Nan, about how sometimes during a long winter men who'd lived beyond their years would announce that they were going hunting. And their daughters would wee...
She is of the north. She deserves better than a butcher.
She had surrendered her virtue at six-and-ten, to a beautiful blond-haired sailor on a trading galley up from Lys. He only knew six words of the Common Tongue, but fuck was one of them—the very word s...
She had a warrior's heart, but the gods in their blind malice had given her the feeble body of a woman.
Ser Barristan, she called, I know what quality a king needs most. Courage, Your Grace? Cheeks like iron, she teased. All I do is sit.
Robb: Uncle Benjen said to send you to the stables if I saw you.Jon: I have one more farewell to make.Robb: Then I haven't seen you.
Power resides only where men believe it resides. [...] A shadow on the wall, yet shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow.
Poison is a coward's weapon'' the king complained. Ned had heard enough. ''You send hired knives to kill a fourteen-year-old girl and still quibble about honor?
Our clothes make us different people. I would sooner be flesh and blood than silks and jewels,
One voice may speak you false, but in many there is always truth to be found.