I rose too high, loved too hard, dared too much. I tried to grasp a star, overreached, and fell.

In my dreams, I kill him every night,' Robert admitted. 'A thousand deaths will still be less than he deserves'.

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.

I have the virtue of being still amongst the living. Some would say that is my only virtue.

No mortal man could frighten him, no more than the darkness could, nor the bones of his soul, the grey and grisly bones of his soul.

Nothing burns like the cold.

Trust is earned. Like gold.