Do the dead frighten you?

For herself, she wanted sleet and ice, howling winds, thunder to shake the very stones of the Red Keep. She wanted a storm to match her rage.

I prefer my history dead. Dead history is writ in ink, the living sort in blood.

Better to mock the game than to play and lose.

I wonder what the High Septon would have to say about the sanctity of oaths sworn while dead drunk, chained to a wall, with a sword pressed to your chest?

Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used against you

Every once in a very long while, Lord Tywin Lannister would actually threaten to smile; he never did, but the threat alone was terrible to behold.