You do not steal from the dragon, oh, no. The dragon remembers.

And for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.

He understood the way that you could sometimes fall right into them, as if each page was a hole into another world.

It's a fool boy who mocks a giant, and a mad world when a cripple has to defend him.

An artist has an obligation to tell the truth. [...] that the true horrors of human history derive not from orcs and Dark Lords, but from ourselves. We are the monsters. (And the heroes too). Each of us has within himself the capacity for great good, and great evil.

If somebody dies and you just go get more popcorn, it’s a superficial experience isn’t it?

Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born.