You'll find truth in your looking glass, not on the tongues of men.

Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.

Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli.

Once, I cut off a man's head, but he did not know it until he tried to brush his hair. Then it fell off.

There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.

When a man was hurt you took him to the maester, but what could you do when your maester was hurt?

Start trying to work out who deserves what, and before long you'll spend the rest of your days weeping for each and every person in the world.