Nothing burns like the cold.

What do you like to do?” She scuffed a toe amongst the rushes. “Needlework.” “Very restful, isn’t it?” “Well,” said Arya, “not the way I do it.

When you have known the kiss of a flaying knife, a laugh loses all its power to hurt you.

Dark wings, dark words.

Sometimes he could almost forget that it was there, the way you forget about the sky or the earth underfoot, but there were other times when it seemed as if there was nothing else in the world.

Believe it or not, I worked four summers in college as a sports writer covering baseball for a parks and rec department in Bayonne, N.J.

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.