Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, yes, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends. And Renly, that one, he's copper, bright and shiny, pretty to look at but not worth all that much at the end of the day.

Only lies offend me, never honest counsel.

I will take what is mine with fire and blood.

I prefer my history dead. Dead history is writ in ink, the living sort in blood.

The common people pray for rain, healthy children and a summer that never ends. It is no matter to them if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they are left in peace.

This world is twisted beyond hope, when lowborn smugglers must vouch for the honor of kings.

Can they love without a word for it?