I hate outlines. I have a broad sense of where the story is going; I know the end, I know the end of the principal characters, and I know the major turning points and events from the books, the climaxes for each book, but I don't necessarily know each twist and turn along the way. That's something I discover in the course of writing and that's what makes writing enjoyable. I think if I outlined comprehensively and stuck to the outline the actual writing would be boring.

Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end.

When Maester Aemon heard him sing, he said his voice was honey poured over thunder.

There is no creature on earth half so terrifying as a truly just man.

A man who won't listen can't hear.

The maester smiled...Hush now, child, I'm much older than you. I can....die as I please.

If ice can burn, then love and hate can mate.