His cloak was his crowning glory; sable, thick and black and soft as sin.
I have an instinctual distrust of conventional happy endings.
Men have scars, women mysteries.
It's a fool boy who mocks a giant, and a mad world when a cripple has to defend him.
That man said he’d take your head too.” “Well, as to that,” Yoren said, “if he can get it off my shoulders, he’s welcome to it.
Robert was never the same after he put on that crown. Some men are like swords, made for fighting. Hang them up and they go to rust.