The snow drifted down and down, all in ghostly silence, and lay thick and unbroken on the ground. It was a place of whites and blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows and black trees, the dark grey sky above. A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here. Yet she stepped out all the same.

Ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow.

You lie. Worse, you lie poorly.

His dagger was out, poised at her throat. “Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life.

Men are mad and gods are madder, she told the grass, and the grass murmured its agreement.

Wine makes all things possible.

You can't just pick people for their hair color or the shape of their face. You have to go with the best actors.