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.

And all was black and still, and black and cold, and black and dead, and black.

Why is it always the innocents who suffer most, when you high lords play your game of thrones?

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

It all goes back and back," Tyrion thought, "to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance in our steads.

If there are gods, why is the world so full of pain and injustice?' 'Because of men like you.

Not everyone who spoke you friendly was really your friend." - Arya