She remembered the godswood, drooping branches heavy with moisture, and the sound of her brother’s laughter as he chased her through piles of damp leaves.

I don’t know what message to send to Bran. Help him Tyrion.” “What help could I give him? I am no maester, to ease his pain. I have no spell to give him back his legs.” “You gave me help when I needed it” Jon Snow said. “I gave you nothing,” Tyrion said. “Words.” “Then give your words to Bran too.

I have a huge emotional attachment to characters I've created, especially the viewpoint characters.

The storms come and go, the waves crash overhead, the big fish eat the little fish, and I keep on paddling. (Varys)

Show me the path I must walk and do not let me stumble in the dark places that lie ahead.

...the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword." "...a ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is.

Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?