Swift as a deer. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water.
Why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what's on the other side?
How much can a crown be worth, when a crow can dine upon a king?
A crown should not sit easy on the head.
The High Septon once told me that as we sin, so do we suffer.
I've always taken that as my guiding principle and the rest is just set dressing. You can have dragons in it, or aliens and starships, or a western about a gunslinger, or even literary fiction, and ultimately you're still writing about the human heart in conflict with itself.