Nothing' isn't better or worse than anything. Nothing is just... nothing." Arya Stark

Laughter is poison to fear.

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?

Be careful you don't cut yourself. The edges are sharp enough to shave with.''Girls don't shave', Arya said.'Maybe they should. Have you ever seen the septa's legs?

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. Arya had to sit with the little fat one. Naturally.

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.

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

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

My old grandmother always used to say, Summer friends will melt away like summer snows, but winter friends are friends forever.

And what lesson can we draw from Volantene history?”“If you want to conquer the world, you best have dragons.

Most of my kin are bastards," [Tyrion] said with a wry smile, "but you're the first I've had to friend.

Look at me!" he would shout as he ran laughing through the halls of Storm's End. "Look at me, I'm a dragon," or "Look at me, I'm a wizard," or "Look at me, look at me, I'm the rain

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.

A great battle is a terrible thing," the old knight said, "but in the midst of blood and carnage, there is sometimes also beauty, beauty that could break your heart.

Then a begging brother in a tattered brown robe said a blessing on his sword, and a maid kissed his cheek. 'They are for me,' "Why?" He asked Pate. "What am I to them?" "A knight who remembered his vows," the smith said.

Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted her his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father's head. Sansa would never make that mistake again.

It's not a career for anyone who needs or values security. It's a career for gamblers. Every time you write a book you roll the dice again.

Why would the stars want to look down on such as me?

Why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what's on the other side?