I never finished any of my early stories. They were all beginnings, an endless number of beginnings.

Jon: Have you seen the wall? | Sam: I'm fat, not blind.

I think life is a jape. Yours, mine, everyone's

I feel satisfaction at the end of the day when I've written a scene that I really like or when I write a good line of dialogue that I read out to my wife or something like that. But there's also days where it's just bloody agony and I go, 'ugh, this is such crap! Why did I think I had any talent?

Arya, What are you doing?" "Syrio says a water dancer can stand on one toe for hours." Her hands flailed at the air to steady herself. Ned had to smile. "Which toe?" he teased. "ANY toe," Arya said, exasperated with the question. She hopped from her right leg to her left, swaying dangerously before she regained her balance. "Must you do your standing here?" he asked. "It's a long hard fall down these steps." "Syrio says a water dancer NEVER falls.

Anyone can be killed.

I could have written a story about a well-adjusted family. Ned Stark comes down to King’s Landing and takes over and solves all their problems. Would that have been as exciting?