The white horse and the black one wheeled like lovers at a harvest dance, the riders throwing steel in place of kisses.

When I sleep I turn into a wolf. Bran turned his face away and looked back out into the night. Do wolves dreams?

Power resides only where men believe it resides. [...] A shadow on the wall, yet shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow.

When we speak of the morrow nothing is ever certain.

The man who fears losing has already lost.

In this world, only winter is certain

The eunuch had looked death in the face, so near he might have kissed her on the lips.