What was it Catelyn Stark had called them, that night at Bitterbridge? The knights of summer. And now it was autumn and they were falling like leaves.

An honest kiss, a little kindness, everyone deserves that much, however big or small.

The heart lies and the head plays tricks on us, but the eyes see true. Look with your eyes. Hear with your ears. Taste with your mouth. Smell with your nose. Feel with your skin. Then comes the thinking, afterward, and in a way knowing the truth.

Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.

Anger was better than tears, better than grief, better than guilt.

Any act can be a prayer, if done as well as we are able.

Trust is earned. Like gold.