Go Ahead, call me all the names you want," Sansa said airily. "You won't dare when I'm married to Joffrey. You'll have to bow and call me Your Grace." She shrieked as Arya flung the orange across the table. It caught her in the middle of the forehead with a wet squish and plopped down into her lap. "You have juice on your face, Your Grace ," Arya said.

Know the men who follow you and let them know you. Don't ask your men to die for a stranger.

The women are the strong ones, truly.

There is only one god and his name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death: “Not today.

Wizards die the same as other men, once you cut their heads off.

Life is not a song, sweetling. Someday you may learn that, to your sorrow.

a few days ago she had been wandering around with a swatch of black silk tied over her eyes. Syrio was teaching her to see with her ears and her nose and her skin, she told him. Before that, he had her doing spinds and back flips. "Arya, are you certain you want to persist in this?" She nodded. "Tomorrow we're going to catch cats." "Cats." Ned sighed.