"Words are like arrows, Arianne. Once loosed, you cannot call them back."

"There is no shame in loving."

"Nothing burns like the cold."

"Bad and worse and worst makes a beggar's choice."

"Nobody is a villain in their own story. We're all the heroes of our own stories."

"Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armour yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you."

"Silver's sweet and gold's our mother, but once you're dead they're worth less than that last shit you take as you lie dying."

"A sword needs a sheath, heh, and a wedding needs a bedding."

"I had this desire to see the world. I couldn't see any of it, but I saw it in my imagination, and that's why I always read books, and I could go to Mars or Middle Earth or the Hyborian age."

"Politicians were mostly people who'd had too little morals and ethics to stay lawyers."

"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 the girl, best find yourself a she-bear. If a man does not use his member it grows smaller and smaller, until one day he wants to piss and cannot find it."

"Perhaps you should speak more softly to me, then. Monsters are dangerous beasts, and just now kings seem to be dying like flies."

"I learned long ago that it is considered rude to vomit on your brother."

"The pale pink light of dawn sparkled on branch and leaf and stone. Every blade of grass was carved from emerald, every drip of water turned to diamond. Flowers and mushrooms alike wore coats of glass. Even the mud puddles had a bright brown sheen. Through the shimmering greenery, the black tents of his brothers were encased in a fine glaze of ice. So there is magic beyond the Wall after all."

"Do you want to die old and craven in your bed?- How else? Though not till I'm done reading."

"Armageddon,' Sandy said. 'The final battle. The ultimate confrontation between good and evil. That's what armageddon is supposed to be. Right?'Hobbins lifted a pale white eyebrow, said nothing.'Which side are we?' Sandy demanded. 'Which side are we?''That's one you got to work out yourself, friend. This ain't like in Tolkien, is it?"

"This was how an enemy should be dealt with: with a dagger, not a declaration."

"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 look at ham. Not to say that the wildlings mean us harm. Aye, we hacked their gods apart and made them burn the pieces, but we gave them onion soup. What's a god compared to a nice bowl of onion soup? I could do with mine myself."

"So now you are a woman. Do you have the least idea of what that means?It means that I am now fit to be wedded and bedded (...) and to bear children for the king."

"I prefer my history dead. Dead history is writ in ink, the living sort in blood.""Do you want to die old and craven in your bed?""How else? Though not till I'm done reading."

"A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things."

"I thank you for calling them off, young ser. I promise you, they would have found me indigestible."

"I am alive, and drunk on sunlight."

"My uncle always said that it was the sword in a man's hand that determined his worth, not the one between his legs."

"He was a pitiful thing. He had always been a pitiful thing. Why had she never seen that before? There was a hollow place inside her where her fear had been."

"Believe it or not, I worked four summers in college as a sports writer covering baseball for a parks and rec department in Bayonne, N.J."

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

"Lady Selyse was as tall as her husband, thin of body and thin of face, with prominent ears, a sharp nose, and the faintest hint of a mustache on her upper lip. She plucked it daily and cursed it regularly, yet it never failed to return. Her eyes were pale, her mouth stern, her voice a whip. She cracked it now."

"All these kings would do a deal better if they would put down their swords and listen to their mothers."

"Some woman, no doubt. Most of them are." He favored Jon with a rueful grin. "Remember this, boy. All dwarfs are bastards, yet not all bastards need be dwarfs." And with that he turned and sauntered back into the feast, whistling a tune. When he opened the door, the light from within threw his shadow clear across the yard, and for just a moment Tyrion Lannister stood tall as a king."

"All my memories are poisoned."

"Strength to your arm, then."

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."

"Slowly the shapes around her took on form. Huge empty eyes stared at her hungrily through the gloom, and dimly she saw the jagged shadows of long teeth. She had lost the count. She closed her eyes and bit her lip and sent the fear away. When she looked again, the monsters would be gone. Would never have been. She pretended that Syrio was beside her in the dark, whispering in her ear. Calm as still water, she told herself. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. She opened her eyes again. The monsters were still there, but the fear was gone."

"We all need to be mocked from time to time, lest we take ourselves too seriously."

"I think there are two types of writers, the architects and the gardeners. The architects plan everything ahead of time, like an architect building a house. They know how many rooms are going to be in the house, what kind of roof they're going to have, where the wires are going to run, what kind of plumbing there's going to be. They have the whole thing designed and blueprinted out before they even nail the first board up. The gardeners dig a hole, drop in a seed and water it. They kind of know what seed it is, they know if planted a fantasy seed or mystery seed or whatever. But as the plant comes up and they water it, they don't know how many branches it's going to have, they find out as it grows. And I'm much more a gardener than an architect."

"I have lived a thousand lives and I've loved a thousand loves. I've walked on distant worlds and seen the end of time. Because I read."

"Shaga: How would you like to die, little man?Tyrion: In my bed, at the age of eighty with a belly full of wine and a woman's mouth around my cock."

"He cries behind his wall, I think, and no one knows, not even he. And no one will ever know, and in the end he'll always be alone in smiling pain."

"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. My lord father told me about mountains, but I never saw one till now. I love them more than I can say."Bran made a face at her. "But you just said you hated them.""Why can't it be both?" Meera reached up to pinch his nose."Because they're different," he insisted. "Like night and day, or ice and fire.""If ice can burn," said Jojen in his solemn voice, "then love and hate can mate. Mountain or marsh, it makes no matter. The land is one.""One," his sister agreed, "but over wrinkled."

"What fire joins none man can put aside."

"Shall I prick my prick as well?"

"They hate you because you act like you're better than they are...." "[they are] Four that you humiliated in the yard. Four who are probably afraid of you. I've watched you fight. It's not training with you. Put a good edge on your sword, and they'd be dead meat; you know it, I know it, they know it. You leave them nothing. You shame them. Does that make you proud?"

"In this world the weak are the victims of the strong."

"Gold has its uses, but war is won with iron."

"Even brave men blind themselves sometimes, when they are afraid to see."

"Even a hedge knight has his honor."

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

"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 where they touched the snow."

"I don't know what message to send to Bran. Help him Tyrion."What help could I give him? I am no maester, to ease his pain. I have no spell to give him back his legs."You gave me help when I needed it Jon Snow said."I gave you nothing, Tyrion said. "Words."Then give your words to Bran too."