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.

I thank you for calling them off, young ser. I promise you, they would have found me indigestible.

Every man should lose a battle in his youth, so he does not lose a war when he is old.

Folly and desperation are ofttimes hard to tell apart.

You are grown so very great now, yet the higher a man climbs the farther he has to fall.

His eyes were open wounds beneath his heavy brows, a blue as dark as the sea by night.

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