I crossed a thousand leagues to come to you, and lost the best part of me along the way. Don't tell me to leave.

Does he think to scare me? Arya kissed him where his nose should be and plucked the grave worm from his eye to eat it, but it melted like a shadow in her hand. The yellow skull was melting too, and the kindliest old man that she had ever seen was smiling down on her. "No one has ever tried to eat my worm before," he said. "Are you hungry, child?" Yes, she thought, but not for food.

When you play a game of thrones you win or you die.

In my dreams, I kill him every night,' Robert admitted. 'A thousand deaths will still be less than he deserves'.

"You look different now. Like a proper little girl," (said Gendry.) "I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns," (said Arya.) "Nice, though. A nice oak tree. [...] You even smell nice for a change."

The prejudice is still there, but it's breaking down. You have writers like Michael Chabon and The Yiddish Policemen's Union. He's a writer who's determined to break down genre barriers. He's done amazing things.

In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining.