Arya, What are you doing?" "Syrio says a water dancer can stand on one toe for hours." Her hands flailed at the air to steady herself. Ned had to smile. "Which toe?" he teased. "ANY toe," Arya said, exasperated with the question. She hopped from her right leg to her left, swaying dangerously before she regained her balance. "Must you do your standing here?" he asked. "It's a long hard fall down these steps." "Syrio says a water dancer NEVER falls.

Is it so far from madness to wisdom?" - Daenerys Targaryen

I have idea files of books that I want to write one of these days, stories I want to write one of these days, but I'll probably never get to them.

The snow drifted down and down, all in ghostly silence, and lay thick and unbroken on the ground. It was a place of whites and blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows and black trees, the dark grey sky above. A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here. Yet she stepped out all the same.

Can they love without a word for it?

His dagger was out, poised at her throat. “Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life.

We'll need to make a litter to carry him," said Osha. "No use," said Luwin. "I'm dying, woman." "You can't," said Rickon angrily. "No you can't." Beside him, Shaggydog bared his teeth and growled. The maester smiled. "Hush now, child, I'm much older than you. I can . . . die as I please.