Little redcape," he snarled, "when next you bare steel on Shagga son of Dolf, I will chop off your manhood and roast it in the fire." "What, no goats?" Tyrion said, taking a bite of his cheese.

She could not bear to look at him just now. If she did, she might well slap him again. Or cry. Or kiss him. And never know which was right and which was wrong and which was madness.

For men, the answer was always the same and never farther away than the nearest sword. For a woman, a mother, the way was stonier and harder to know.

The years leech at a man's memories, even those he has vowed never to forget.

And I tell you truly, Danaerys, there is no man in all the world who will ever be half so true to you as me.

Valar Morghulis - All men must die.

You lie. Worse, you lie poorly.