It seemed cruel for a day to dawn so fair and end so foul as this one promised to.

Give a thing a name and it will somehow come to be.

A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies, said Jojen. The man who never reads lives only one.

Does he think to scare me? Arya kissed him where his nose should be and plucked the grave worm from his eye to eat it, but it melted like a shadow in her hand. The yellow skull was melting too, and the kindliest old man that she had ever seen was smiling down on her. "No one has ever tried to eat my worm before," he said. "Are you hungry, child?" Yes, she thought, but not for food.

Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.

It seemed cruel for a day to dawn so fair and end so foul as this one promised to.

I was born in Bayonne, New Jersey. I grew up in the projects. I never went anywhere. But I have lived a thousand lives and I’ve loved a thousand loves. I’ve walked on distant worlds and seen the end of time. Because I read.