Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths.

Once you’ve accepted your flaws, no one can use them against you.

The old man laid a withered, spotted hand on his shoulder. "It hurts, boy," he said softly. "Oh, yes. Choosing . . . it has always hurt. And always will. I know.

Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths.

As much as I love historical fiction, my problem with historical fiction is that you always know what's going to happen.

Wisdom oft comes from the mouth of babes.

Those are brave men," he told Ser Balon in admiration. "Let's go kill them.