Faith is like porridge. Better with milk and honey.

Catelyn had never liked this godswood. She had been born a Tully, at Riverrun far to the south, on the Red Fork of the Trident. The godswood there was a garden, bright and airy, where tall redwoods spread dappled shadows across tinkling streams, birds sang from hidden nests, and the air was spicy with the scent of flowers.

Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it.

I have the virtue of being still amongst the living. Some would say that is my only virtue.

The odd thing about being a writer is you do tend to lose yourself in your books. Sometimes it seems like real life is flickering by and you're hardly a part of it. You remember the events in your books better than you remember the events that actually took place when you were writing them.

Tomorrow's trials concerned her more than yesterday's triumphs.

There is magic in my universe, but it's pretty low magic compared to other fantasies.