She yearned to see her mother again, and Robb and Bran and Rickon… but it was Jon Snow she thought of most. She wished somehow they could come to the Wall before Winterfell, so Jon might muss up her hair and call her “little sister.” She’d tell him, “I missed you,” and he’d say it too at the very same moment, the way they always used to say things together. She would have liked that. She would have liked that better than anything.

The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer’s farce is almost done. My son is home.

Of course it’s not enough to be a good man to be an effective ruler and it never has been.

Why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what's on the other side?

They say it grows so cold up here in winter that a man’s laughter freezes in his throat and chokes him to death,” Ned said evenly. “Perhaps that is why the Starks have so little humor.

The white horse and the black one wheeled like lovers at a harvest dance, the riders throwing steel in place of kisses.

My own heroes are the dreamers, those men and women who tried to make the world a better place than when they found it, whether in small ways or great ones. Some succeeded, some failed, most had mixed results... but it is the effort that's heroic, as I see it. Win or lose, I admire those who fight the good fight.