I don't ever want t' leave this cave, Jon Snow. Not ever

An admiral without ships, a hand without fingers, in service of a king without a throne. Is this a knight who comes before us, or the answer to a child's riddle?

The Lord of Light in his wisdom made us male and female, two parts of a greater whole. In our joining there is power. Power to make life. Power to make light. Power to cast shadows.

Eat your heart out, Rowling. Maybe you have billions of dollars and my Hugo, but you don't have readers like these.

The white horse and the black one wheeled like lovers at a harvest dance, the riders throwing steel in place of kisses.

Catelyn had never liked this godswood. She had been born a Tully, at Riverrun far to the south, on the Red Fork of the Trident. The godswood there was a garden, bright and airy, where tall redwoods spread dappled shadows across tinkling streams, birds sang from hidden nests, and the air was spicy with the scent of flowers.

Ser Cleos looked like a weasel, fought like a goose, and had the courage of an especially brave ewe.