The old man laid a withered, spotted hand on his shoulder. "It hurts, boy," he said softly. "Oh, yes. Choosing . . . it has always hurt. And always will. I know.

No mortal man could frighten him, no more than the darkness could, nor the bones of his soul, the grey and grisly bones of his soul.

What would a Frey know of honor? - Sir Davos Seaworth

Do the dead frighten you?

Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?

A man who sees nothing has no use for his eyes,” the Mountain declared. “Cut them out and give them to your next outrider. Tell him you hope that four eyes might see better than two . . . and if not, the man after him will have six.

A lot of writing takes place in the subconscious, and it's bound to have an effect.