And who are you, the proud Lord said that I must bow so low? Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know. In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. And, mine are as long and sharp, my Lord as long and sharp as yours. And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that Lord of Castamere, but now the rains weep o'er his hall, with no one there to hear. Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall, and not a soul to hear.

The pale pink light of dawn sparkled on branch and leaf and stone. Every blade of grass was carved from emerald, every drip of water turned to diamond. Flowers and mushrooms alike wore coats of glass. Even the mud puddles had a bright brown sheen. Through the shimmering greenery, the black tents of his brothers were encased in a fine glaze of ice. So there is magic beyond the Wall after all.

Schemes are like fruit, they require a certain ripening.

I swear to you, sitting a throne is a thousand times harder than winning one.

There’s part of me that loves words. But sometimes it feels like you’re trying to drive nails with your shoe.

Clean hands, Sansa. Whatever you do, make certain your hands are clean." ~ Lord Petyr Baelish, Littlefinger

I think life is a jape. Yours, mine, everyone's