Where the king goes, the realm follows-Catlyn Stark-

Words are not swords.

A good act does not wash out the bad, nor a bad act the good. Each should have its own reward.

Most of the stories you hear about dragons are fodder for fools.

I want to weep, she thought. I want to be comforted. I’m so tired of being strong. I want to be foolish and frightened for once. Just for a small while, that’s all….a day…..an hour.

Even in dreams, you could not fall forever.

Remember this, boy. All dwarfs may be bastards, yet not all bastards need be dwarfs.

Not that I’m complaining. It was better than my old dream, where Harma Dogshead was feeding me to her pigs.””Harma’s dead.” Jon said.”But not the pigs. They look at me the way Slayer used to...

Fat men take a cushion with them wherever they go.

His cloak was his crowning glory; sable, thick and black and soft as sin.

show, don’t tell.” Whatever might be happening in my books, I try to put the reader into the middle of it, rather than summarizing the action. That requires vivid sensory detail. I don’t want distance,...

Only a starving man asks bread from a begger

old stories are like old friends (…) you have to visit them from time to time.

The strongest trees are rooted in the dark places of the earth. Darkness will be your cloak, your shield, your mother’s milk. Darkness will make you strong.

Perhaps that is why the Starks have so little humor.

Then Royce’s parry came a beat too late. The pale sword bit through the ringmail beneath his arm. The young Lord cried out in pain. Blood welled between the rings. It seemed red as fire...

When the end comes, I will meet it raging.

His mouth would have given despair to even the drollest of fools; it was a mouth made for frowns and scowls and sharply worded commands, all thin pale lips and clenched muscles, a mouth that...

If you want to conquer the world, you best have dragons.

We were talking about the prince,’ Sansa said, her voice soft as a kiss.Arya knew which prince she meant: Joffrey, of course. The tall, handsome one. Sansa got to sit with him at the feast....

Ser? My lady?” said Podrick. “Is a broken man an outlaw?” “More or less,” Brienne answered. Septon Meribald disagreed. “More less than more. There are many sorts of outlaws, just as there are many sorts...

Up and down,” Meera would sigh sometimes as they walked, “then down and up. Then up and down again. I hate these stupid mountains of yours, Prince Bran.””Yesterday you said you loved them.””Oh, I do....

Sėdi kambaryje trys didūs vyrai – karalius, žynys ir auksu aptekęs turtuolis. Tarp jų stovi samdomas karys, paprastas žemakilmis, nedidelio proto žmogelis. Kiekvienas didžiūnas įtikinėja jį nužudyti kitus du. Karalius sako: “Užmušk juos, nes esu...

Are you certain they never cut your member off?” Tormund gave a shrug, as if to say he would never understand such madness. “Well, you are a free man now, but if you will have...

Everyone who isn’t us is an enemy.” – Cersei

worms have crawled up your nose and eaten your wits.

The comic book is not the book. the graphic novel is not the novel. The same, of course, is true of films and television. When we move a story from one medium to another, no...

The only time a man can be brave is when he is afraid.

The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife.

Noseless and Handless, the Lannister Boys.

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

Yet even so, Jon Snow was not sorry he had come. There were wonders here as well. He had seen sunlight flashing on icy thin waterfalls as they plunged over the lips of sheer stone...

Pourquoi ? demanda-t-il à l’armurier. Que suis-je pour eux ?— Un chevalier qui s’est souvenu de ses vœux.

Then give your words to Bran too.

All the world knew that a maester forged his silver link when he learned the art of healing—but the world preferred to forget that men who knew how to heal also knew how to kill.

I haven’t. And if I have it doesn’t matter. Sometimes Old Nan would tell the same story she’d told before, but we never minded, if it was a good story. Old stories are like old...

She might have wept then, had not the sky begun to do it for her.

Above him loomed a grotesque fat man […] His bedrobe was large enough to serve as a tourney pavilion, but its loosely knotted belt had come undone, exposing a huge white belly and a pair...

Day followed day, and night followed night, until Dany knew she could not endure a moment longer. She would kill herself rather than go on, she decided one night… Yet when she slept that night,...

Chaos isn’t a pit. Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail, and never get to try again. The fall breaks them. And some are given a chance to climb, but refuse....

It is one thing to be clever and another to be wise.

Baimė kerta giliau nei kalavijas.

Sex is sharing, you see, and it’s good to share with everyone. But the sharing has to be real and meaningful. That creates problems.

An artist has an obligation to tell the truth. My novels are epic fantasy, but they are inspired by and grounded in history. Rape and sexual violence have been a part of every war ever...

Our enemies leave our bodies for the crows and the wolves. Our friends bury us in secret graves.

Allow me to give my lord one last piece of counsel,” the old man had said, “the same counsel I once gave my brother when we parted for the last time. He was three-and-thirty when...

They’re both bungholes who think they’re too noble to shit,

A man is never so vulnerable in a battle as when he flees,” Lord Eddard has told Jon once. “A running man is like a wounded animal to a soldier. It gets his bloodlust up.

Jon:’What are you doing up there? Why aren’t you at the feast?’Tyrion: ‘Too hot, too noisy, and I’d drunk too much wine’, the dwarf told him. ‘I learned long ago that it is considered rude...

A hound will die for you, but never lie to you.