a man who hates music can’t be trusted, I always say.

"Weese," she would whisper, first of all. "Dunsen, Chiswyck, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling. The Tickler and the Hound. Ser Gregor, Ser Armory, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei."

Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.

Now I understand why King Stannis let the wildlings through the Wall. He means for us to eat them.

All the world knew that a maester forged his silver link when he learned the art of healing—but the world preferred to forget that men who knew how to heal also knew how to kill.

I had this desire to see the world. I couldn't see any of it, but I saw it in my imagination, and that's why I always read books, and I could go to Mars or Middle Earth or the Hyborian age.

Of course you know him. Everyone knows a pear-shaped man.