Sleep is a little death, dreams the whisperings of the Other, who would drag us all into his eternal night.

It all goes back and back," Tyrion thought, "to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance in our steads.

Truly, sister, you were born to be a widow. (Tyrion to Cersei)

Some allies are more dangerous than enemies.

Knowledge is a Weapon, Jon. Arm yourself well before you ride forth to Battle.

I can see a scene in my head, and when I try to get it down in words on paper, the words are clunky; the scene is not coming across right. So frustrating. And there are days where it keeps flowing. Open the floodgates, and there it is. Pages and pages coming. Where the hell does this all come from? I don't know.

There is magic in my universe, but it's pretty low magic compared to other fantasies.