I worked out of Hollywood for 10 years and I had my heart broken half a dozen times, so I know all the things that can go wrong.

The gods made our bodies as well as our souls, is it not so? They give us voices, so we might worship them with song. They give us hands, so we might build them temples. And they give us desire, so we might mate and worship them in that way.

I wonder what the High Septon would have to say about the sanctity of oaths sworn while dead drunk, chained to a wall, with a sword pressed to your chest?

Death is so terribly final, while life is full of possibilities.

I can see a scene in my head, and when I try to get it down in words on paper, the words are clunky; the scene is not coming across right. So frustrating. And there are days where it keeps flowing. Open the floodgates, and there it is. Pages and pages coming. Where the hell does this all come from? I don't know.

Is it so far from madness to wisdom?" - Daenerys Targaryen

Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.