The air smelled of paper and dust and years.

Pyp had stabbed a turnip with his knife. "The night is dark and full of turnips," he announced in a solemn voice. "Let us all pray for venison, my children, with some onions and a bit of tasty gravy.

Power is a trick. It lies where we believe it lies.

I beg you both, take heart.'(Varys) 'Whose?' asked Tyrion sourly. He could think of several tempting choices.

Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.

He who hurries through life hurries to his grave.

You are the blood of the dragon. You can make a hat.