What do you like to do?” She scuffed a toe amongst the rushes. “Needlework.” “Very restful, isn’t it?” “Well,” said Arya, “not the way I do it.

There is no shame in loving. If your septons say there is, your seven gods must be demons. In the isles we know better. Our gods gave us legs to run with, noses to smell with, hands to touch and feel. What mad cruel god would give a man eyes and tell him he must forever keep them shut, and never look at all the beauty in the world? Only a monster god, a demon of the darkness.

Writing is like sausage making in my view; you'll all be happier in the end if you just eat the final product without knowing what's gone into it.

Once you’ve accepted your flaws, no one can use them against you.

His sister liked to think of herself as Lord Tywin with teats, but she was wrong. Their father had been as relentless and implacable as a glacier, where Cercei was all wildfire, especially when thwarted.

Unfortunately in television, for whatever reason, fantasy became thought of as a kids' genre.

Is there any creature on earth as unfortunate as an ugly woman? (wonders Lady Catelyn Stark)