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... a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge.
Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armour yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.
Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.
When you play a game of thrones you win or you die.
When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.
The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember that.
Death is so terribly final, while life is full of possibilities.
What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms . . . or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.
Why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what's on the other side?.
Once you’ve accepted your flaws, no one can use them against you.
Nothing burns like the cold.
Laughter is poison to fear.
What do we say to the Lord of Death?' 'Not today.
Every flight begins with a fall.
Oh, my sweet summer child," Old Nan said quietly, "what do you know of fear? Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides its face for years at a time, and little children are born and live and die all in darkness while the direwolves grow gaunt and hungry, and the white walkers move through the woods.
My brother has his sword, King Robert has his warhammer and I have my mind...and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone if it is to keep its edge. That's why I read so much Jon Snow.
Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle.
Give me honorable enemies rather than ambitious ones, and I'll sleep more easily by night.
Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.
The man who fears losing has already lost.
Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.
Would you rather be called the Imp? Let them see that their words can cut you and you’ll never be free of the mockery. If they want to give you a name take it make it your own. Then they can’t hurt you with it anymore.
All that Syrio Forel had taught her went racing through her head. Swift as a deer. Quiet as shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. Fear cuts deeper than swords. The man who fears losing has already lost. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords.
There is no creature on earth half so terrifying as a truly just man.
The common people pray for rain, healthy children, and a summer that never ends," Ser Jorah told her. "It is no matter to them if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they are left in peace." He gave a shrug. "They never are.
A lion doesn't concern itself with the opinion of sheep.
...the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword." "...a ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is.
A craven can be as brave as any man, when there is nothing to fear. And we all do our duty, when there is no cost to it. How easy it seems then, to walk the path of honor. Yet soon or late in every man's life comes a day when it is not easy, a day when he must choose. (Maester Aemon).
When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east," she said sadly. "When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When my womb quickens again, and I bear a living child. Then you will return, my sun-and-stars, and not before." -Daenerys Targaryen.
...How would you like to die, Tyrion son of Tywin?" "In my own bed, with a belly full of wine and a maiden's mouth around my cock, at the age of eighty," he replied.
You wear your honor like a suit of armor... You think it keeps you safe, but all it does is weigh you down and make it hard for you to move.
Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty. What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms ... or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.
Why is it always the innocents who suffer most, when you high lords play your game of thrones?.
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.
She had put despair and fear aside, as if they were garments she did not choose to wear.
I have a realistic grasp of my own strengths and weaknesses. My mind is my weapon. My brother has his sword, King Robert has his warhammer, and I have my mind… and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge. That’s why I read so much, Jon Snow.
The world was full of cravens who pretended to be heroes; it took a queer sort of courage to admit to cowardice...
He was no dragon, Dany thought, curiously calm. Fire cannot kill a dragon.
When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.
The High Septon once told me that as we sin, so do we suffer. If that’s true, Lord Eddard, tell me… why is it always the innocents who suffer most, when you high lords play your game of thrones?.
Minds are like swords, I do fear. The old ones go to rust.
Let them see that their words can cut you and you’ll never be free of the mockery. If they want to give you a name, take it, make it your own. Then they can’t hurt you with it anymore.
A mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge. That is why I read so much.
All dwarfs may be bastards yet not all bastards are dwarfs.
I am surrounded by flatterers and fools. It can drive a man to madness,.. . Half of them don’t dare tell me the truth, and the other half can’t find it.
We all need to be mocked from time to time Lord Mormont lest we start to take ourselves too seriously.
Nothing burns like the cold. But only for a while. Then it gets inside you and starts to fill you up, and after a while you don't have the strength to fight it.
Perhaps that is why the Starks have so little humor.
Be careful you don't cut yourself. The edges are sharp enough to shave with.' 'Girls don't shave', Arya said. 'Maybe they should. Have you ever seen the septa's legs?.
As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.
My father is the soul of avarice, and my sweet sister Cersei lusts for power with every waking breath. I, however, am innocent as a little lamb. Shall I bleat for you?.
She had never loved him so much as she did in that instant.
Jon:'What are you doing up there? Why aren't you at the feast?' Tyrion: 'Too hot, too noisy, and I'd drunk too much wine', the dwarf told him. 'I learned long ago that it is considered rude to vomit on your brother.
Only a man who's been burned knows what hell is truly like.
And with that he turned and sauntered back into the feast, whistling a tune. When he opened the door, the light from within threw his shadow clear across the yard, and for just a moment Tyrion Lannister stood tall as a king.
Go Ahead, call me all the names you want," Sansa said airily. "You won't dare when I'm married to Joffrey. You'll have to bow and call me Your Grace." She shrieked as Arya flung the orange across the table. It caught her in the middle of the forehead with a wet squish and plopped down into her lap. "You have juice on your face, Your Grace ," Arya said.
You make us look bad', complained Toad. 'You looked bad before I ever met you', Jon told him.
She should be on a hill somewhere, under a fruit tree, with the sun and clouds above her and the rain to wash her clean.
Everything's better with some wine in the belly.