Why should death make a man truthful, or even clever? The dead are likely dull fellows, full of tedious complaints - the ground's too cold, my gravestone should be larger, why does he get more worms than I do.

Kill me, and be cursed. You are no king of mine.

You can't hammer tin into iron, no matter how hard you beat it, but that doesn't mean it's useless.

Robert wanted to be loved. My brother Tyrion has the same disease. Do you want to be loved, Sansa?” “Everyone wants to be loved.” “I see flowering hasn’t made you any brighter,” said Cersei. “Sansa, permit me to share a bit of womanly wisdom with you on this very special day. Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.

For the night is dark and full of terrors.

Kind? How boring that would be. I aspire to be wicked.

He never wanted love, though. You cannot eat love, nor buy a horse with it, nor warm your halls on a cold night.