Oh, my sweet summer child," Old Nan said quietly, "what do you know of fear? Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides its face for years at a time, and little children are born and live and die all in darkness while the direwolves grow gaunt and hungry, and the white walkers move through the woods
George R. R. MartinOnly the soldier pines and sentinels still showed green; the broadleaf trees had donned mantles of russet and gold, or else uncloaked themselves to scratch against the sky with branches brown and bare.
George R. R. MartinNobody likes cravens,โ he said uncomfortably. โI wish we hadnโt helped him. What if they think weโre craven too?โ "You're too stupid to be craven,โ Pyp told him. โI am not,โ Grenn said. โYes you are. If a bear attacked you in the woods, youโd be too stupid to run away.โ โI would not,โ Grenn insisted. โIโd run away faster than you.โ He stopped suddenly, scowling when he saw Pypโs grin and realized what heโd just said.
George R. R. MartinThe gods made our bodies as well as our souls, is it not so? They give us voices, so we might worship them with song. They give us hands, so we might build them temples. And they give us desire, so we might mate and worship them in that way.
George R. R. Martin