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

Give a thing a name and it will somehow come to be.

Ser Cleos looked like a weasel, fought like a goose, and had the courage of an especially brave ewe.

Remember Old Nan's stories, Bran. Remember the way she told them, the sound of her voice. So long as you do that, part of her will always be alive in you.

A true man does what he will, not what he must.

And all was black and still, and black and cold, and black and dead, and black.

Gods be good, why would any man ever want to be king? When everyone was shouting King in the North, King in the North, I told myself ... swore to myself ... that I would be a good king, as honorable as Father, strong, just, loyal to my friends and brave when I faced my enemies ... now I can't even tell one from the other.