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All That Syrio Forel Had Taught Her Went Racing Through Her Head. Swift As A Deer. Quiet As Shadow. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Quick As A Snake. Calm As Still Water. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Strong As A Bear. Fierce As A Wolverine. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Then Man Who Fears Losing Has Already Lost. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords.

-George R. R. Martin

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All That Syrio Forel

George R. R. Martin

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All That Syrio Forel Had Taught Her Went Racing Through Her Head. Swift As A Deer. Quiet As Shadow. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Quick As A Snake. Calm As Still Water. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Strong As A Bear. Fierce As A Wolverine. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Then Man Who Fears Losing Has Already Lost. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords.

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She Had Killed Him With A Whisper, And She Would Kill Two More Before She Was Through. I’m The Ghost In Harrenhal, She Thought. And That Night, There Was One Less Name To Hate.

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I Was Always Intensely Romantic, Even When I Was Too Young To Understand What That Meant.

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All That Syrio Forel Had Taught Her Went Racing Through Her Head. Swift As A Deer. Quiet As Shadow. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Quick As A Snake. Calm As Still Water. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Strong As A Bear. Fierce As A Wolverine. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Then Man Who Fears Losing Has Already Lost. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords.

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Sometimes I Think Everyone Is Just Pretending To Be Brave, And None Of Us Really Are. Maybe Pretending Is How You Get Brave, I Don't Know.

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I'm Fond Of All My Characters So Every Time One Doesn't Make The Cut I'm A Little Disappointed Although I Understand It.

In Order To Get Inside Their Skin, I Have To Identify With Them. That Includes Even The Ones Who Are Complete Bastards, Nasty, Twisted, Deeply Flawed Human Beings With Serious Psychological Problems. Even Them. When I Get Inside Their Skin And Look Out Through Their Eyes, I Have To Feel A Certain - If Not Sympathy, Certainly Empathy For Them. I Have To Try To Perceive The World As They Do, And That Creates A Certain Amount Of Affection.

The Girl Had Hoped For Fog, But The Gods Ignored Her Prayers As Gods So Often Did.

Catelyn Had Never Liked This Godswood. She Had Been Born A Tully, At Riverrun Far To The South, On The Red Fork Of The Trident. The Godswood There Was A Garden, Bright And Airy, Where Tall Redwoods Spread Dappled Shadows Across Tinkling Streams, Birds Sang From Hidden Nests, And The Air Was Spicy With The Scent Of Flowers.

His Chains Chinked Softly. I Seldom Fling Children From Towers To Improve Their Health. Yes, I Meant For Him To Die.

The Morning Air Was Dark With The Smoke Of Burning Gods.

You Mistake Patience For Forbearance.

Wine Makes All Things Possible.

The Sea Is Never Weary. I Must Be As Tireless.

Perhaps I Will Die Too, She Told Herself, And The Thought Did Not Seem So Terrible To Her. If She Flung Herself From The Window, She Could Put An End To Her Suffering, And In The Years To Come The Singers Would Write Songs Of Her Grief. Her Body Would Lie On The Stones Below, Broken And Innocent, Shaming All Those Who Had Betrayed Her. Sansa Went So Far As To Cross The Bedchamber And Throw Open The Shutters ... But Then Her Courage Left Her, And She Ran Back To Her Bed, Sobbing.

The Distinction Between Literary And Genre Fiction Is Stupid And Pernicious. It Dates Back To A Feud Between Robert Louis Stevenson And Henry James. James Won, And It Split Literature Into Two Streams. But It's A Totally False Dichotomy.

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It Had Been More Of A Wish, Actually, But It Sounded Better To Call It A Dream.

...ned Always Said That The Man Who Passes The Sentence Should Swing The Blade, Though He Never Took Any Joy In The Duty. But I Would, Oh, Yes.

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We Know Truth For The Cruel Instrument It Is. Beauty Is Infinitely Preferable To Truth.

[as For Evolution]....cutting Out The Sections [on The Subject] Is Preferrable If The Portions Are Not Thick Enough To Cause Damage To The Spine Of The Book As It Is Opened And Closed In Normal Use. When The Sections Needing Correction Are Too Thick, Paste The Pages Together Being Careful Not To Smear Portions Of The Book Not Intended For Correction.

Life Is Very Full Of Sex, Or Should Be. As Much As I Admire Tolkien - And I Do, He Was A Giant Of Fantasy And A Giant Of Literature, And I Think He Wrote A Great Book That Will Be Read For Many Years - You Do Have To Wonder Where All Those Hobbits Came From, Since You Can't Imagine Hobbits Having Sex, Can You? Well, Sex Is An Important Part Of Who We Are. It Drives Us, It Motivates Us, It Makes Us Do Sometimes Very Noble Things And It Makes Us Do Sometimes Incredibly Stupid Things. Leave It Out, And You've Got An Incomplete World.

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Better To Mock The Game Than To Play And Lose.

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Only Lies Offend Me, Never Honest Counsel.

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No One Will Be Alive By The Last Book. In Fact, They All Die In The Fifth. The Sixth Book Will Be Just A Thousand-page Description Of Snow Blowing Across The Graves.

Reading. That Was The Sport I Was Good At.

‎[melisandre] "his Grace Is Growing Fond Of You." [jon] "i Can Tell. He Only Threatened To Behead Me Twice." Page 58

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It Seemed Cruel For A Day To Dawn So Fair And End So Foul As This One Promised To.

If Ice Can Burn, Then Love And Hate Can Mate.

I've Written Some Standalone Novels, But A Book Series Allows Fans In. There's Much More Intense Involvement.

A Mind Needs Books As A Sword Needs A Whetstone, If It Is To Keep Its Edge.

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I Want To Make My Kingdom Beautiful, To Fill It With Fat Men And Pretty Maids And Laughing Children. I Want My People To Smile When They See Me Ride By, The Way Viserys Said They Smiled For My Father. (daenerys)

I Will Take What Is Mine With Fire And Blood.

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Some Gave Me Soft Words And Some Blunt, Some Made Excuses, Some Promises, Some Only Lied. In The End Words Are Just Wind.

For The Night Is Dark And Full Of Terrors.

There Is An Empty Place Within Me Where My Heart Once Was.

Night Gathers, And Now My Watch Begins. It Shall Not End Until My Death. I Shall Take No Wife, Hold No Lands, Father No Children. I Shall Wear No Crowns And Win No Glory. I Shall Live And Die At My Post. I Am The Sword In The Darkness. I Am The Watcher On The Walls. I Am The Fire That Burns Against Cold, The Light That Brings The Dawn, The Horn That Wakes The Sleepers, The Shield That Guards The Realms Of Men. I Pledge My Life And Honor To The Night's Watch, For This Night And All The Nights To Come.

She Had Put Despair And Fear Aside, As If They Were Garments She Did Not Choose To Wear.

Politicians Were Mostly People Who'd Had Too Little Morals And Ethics To Stay Lawyers.

Men Will Always Underestimate You, He Said, And Their Pride Will Make Them Want To Vanquish You Quickly, Lest It Be Said That A Woman Tried Them Sorely. Let Them Spend Their Strength In Furious Attacks, Whilst You Conserve Your Own. Wait And Watch, Girl, Wait And Watch.

And If I'm Guilty Of Having Gratuitous Sex, Then I'm Also Guilty Of Having Gratuitous Violence, And Gratuitous Feasting, And Gratuitous Description Of Clothes, And Gratuitous Heraldry, Because Very Little Of This Is Necessary To Advance The Plot. But My Philosophy Is That Plot Advancement Is Not What The Experience Of Reading Fiction Is About. If All We Care About Is Advancing The Plot, Why Read Novels? We Can Just Read Cliffs Notes.

I Have A Huge Emotional Attachment To Characters I've Created, Especially The Viewpoint Characters.

He Was No Dragon, Dany Thought, Curiously Calm. Fire Cannot Kill A Dragon

A Mad Man Sees What He Sees.

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We Look At Mountains And Call Them Eternal, And They Seem... But In The Course Of Time, Mountains Rise And Fall, Rivers Change Their Courses, Starts Fall From The Sky, And Great Cities Sink Beneath The Sea. Even Gods Die, We Think. Everything Changes.

If The Novels Are Still Being Read In 50 Years, No One Is Ever Going To Say: 'what's Great About That Sixth Book Is That He Met His Deadline!' It Will Be About How The Whole Thing Stands Up.

But The Real Enemy Is The Cold. It Steals Up On You Quieter Than Will, And At First You Shiver And Your Teeth Chatter And You Stamp Your Feet And Dream Of Mulled Wine And Nice Hot Fires. It Burns, It Does. Nothing Burns Like The Cold. But Only For A While. Then It Gets Inside You And Starts To Fill You Up, And After A While You Don't Have The Strength To Fight It. It's Easier Just To Sit Down Ot Go To Sleep. They Say You Don't Feel Any Pain Toward The End. First You Go Weak And Drowsy, And Everything Starts To Fade, And Then It's Like Sinking Into A Sea Of Warm Milk. Peaceful, Like.

Has My Tale Turned You Speechless? Come, Curse Me Or Kiss Me Or Call Me A Liar. Something.

The Air Smelled Of Paper And Dust And Years.

A Lion Doesn't Concern Itself With The Opinion Of Sheep.

I Think Life Is A Jape. Yours, Mine, Everyone's

As Daenerys Targaryen Rose To Her Feet, Her Black Hissed, Pale Smoke Venting From Its Mouth And Nostrils. The Other Two Pulled Away From Her Breasts And Added Their Voices To The Call, Translucent Wings Unfolding And Stirring The Air, And For The First Time In Hundreds Of Years, The Night Came Alive With The Music Of Dragons.

We All Need To Be Mocked From Time To Time, Lest We Take Ourselves Too Seriously.

She Never Forgets A Slight, Real Or Imagined. She Takes Caution For Cowardice And Dissent For Defiance. And She Is Greedy. Greedy For Power, For Honour, For Love.

He Understood The Way That You Could Sometimes Fall Right Into Them, As If Each Page Was A Hole Into Another World.

The Maester Smiled...hush Now, Child, I'm Much Older Than You. I Can....die As I Please.

Once, I Cut Off A Man's Head, But He Did Not Know It Until He Tried To Brush His Hair. Then It Fell Off.

I Was Just A Kid Selling Monster Stories To The Kids In The Projects, Complete With A Dramatic Reading, Making The Werewolf Sounds. My Career Was Aborted Early On Because One Of My Main Customers Started To Have Nightmares And His Mother Came To My Mother And My Mother Shut Down My Whole Business.

Remember This, Boy. All Dwarfs May Be 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.

No Fight Is Hopeless Till It Has Been Fought.

Only 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.

What Is Honor Compared To A Woman's Love? What Is Duty Against The Feel Of A Newborn Son In Your Arms . . . Or The Memory Of A Brother's Smile? Wind And Words. Wind And Words. We Are Only Human, And The Gods Have Fashioned Us For Love. That Is Our Great Glory, And Our Great Tragedy.

There Are A Number Of Things That I'm Trying To Get Into The Books. There's A Meta-fictional Aspect, If I May Use That Pretentious Word, To Writing Anything. You're Writing In The Shadow Of All The People That Have Gone Before And, In A Way, You're Having A Dialogue With Them. As Someone Who's Read J.r. Tolkien And Robert E. Howard And All The Great Fantasists Before, This Is Almost My Answer To Them.

I Don't Ever Want T' Leave This Cave, Jon Snow. Not Ever

He Raised His Eyes. "sister. See. This Time I Knew You." Asha's Heart Skipped A Beat. "theon?" His Lips Skinned Back In What Might Have Been A Grin. Half His Teeth Were Gone, And Half Those Still Left Him Were Broken And Splintered. "theon," He Repeated. "my Name Is Theon. You Have To Know Your Name.

Men Live Their Lives Trapped In An Eternal Present, Between The Mists Of Memory And The Sea Of Shadow That Is All We Know Of The Days To Come.

The Old Man Laid A Withered, Spotted Hand On His Shoulder. "it Hurts, Boy," He Said Softly. "oh, Yes. Choosing . . . It Has Always Hurt. And Always Will. I Know.

His Sister Liked To Think Of Herself As Lord Tywin With Teats, But She Was Wrong. Their Father Had Been As Relentless And Implacable As A Glacier, Where Cercei Was All Wildfire, Especially When Thwarted.

Start With Short Stories. After All, If You Were Taking Up Rock Climbing, You Wouldn't Start With Mount Everest. So If You're Starting Fantasy, Don't Start With A Nine-book Series.

A Lord May Love The Men That He Commands, But He Cannot Be A Friend To Them. One Day He May Need To Sit In Judgement On Them, Or Send Them Forth To Die.

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.

Nothing Burns Like The Cold. But Only For A While. Then It Gets Inside You And Starts To Fill You Up, And After A While You Don't Have The Strength To Fight It.

A Thousand Deaths Would Still Be Less Than He Deserves.

A Man Does Not Need To Be A Wizard To Know Truth From Falsehood, Not If He Has Eyes. You Need Only Learn To Read A Face. Look At The Eyes. The Mouth. The Muscles Here, At The Corners Of The Jaw, And Here, Where The Neck Joins The Shoulders.

There’s An Old Writing Rule That Says ‘don’t Have Two Character Names Start With The Same Letter’, But I Knew At The Beginning That I Was Going To Have More Than 26 Characters, So I Was In Trouble There. Ultimately It Comes Down To What Sounds Right. And I Struggle With That, Finding The Right Name For A Character. If I Can’t Find The Right Name I Don’t Know Who The Character Is And I Can’t Proceed.

Great Wrongs Have Been Done You, But The Past Is Dust. The Future May Yet Be Won.

Tell Robb That I'm Going To Command The Night's Watch And Keep Him Safe, So He Might As Well Take Up Needlework With The Girls And Have Mikken Melt Down His Sword For Horseshoes. - Jon Snow

What's Dead May Never Die.

I Suppose I'm A Lapsed Catholic. You Would Consider Me An Atheist Or Agnostic.

The Truth Of It Is, Writers Do Have Peculiar Relationships With Their Characters. They Are Our Children In More Senses Than One. They Are Born Of Our Imaginations, Carry Much Of Ourselves In Them, And Embody Whatever Dreams We Dream Of Immortality.

The Man Is As Useless As Nipples On A Breastplate.

Pyp Had Stabbed A Turnip With His Knife. "the Night Is Dark And Full Of Turnips," He Announced In A Solemn Voice. "let Us All Pray For Venison, My Children, With Some Onions And A Bit Of Tasty Gravy.

As A Writer, My Goal, (which I'm Never Going To Achieve, And I Know That, And No Writer Can Achieve That,) But My Goal Is To Make You Almost Live The Books. I Want You To Fall Through That Page And Feel As If These Things Are Happening To You.

Littlefinger Looked Like A Boy Who Had Just Taken A Furtive Bite From A Honeycomb. He Was Trying To Watch For Bees, But The Honey Was So Sweet.

The Snow Drifted Down And Down, All In Ghostly Silence, And Lay Thick And Unbroken On The Ground. It Was A Place Of Whites And Blacks And Greys. White Towers And White Snow And White Statues, Black Shadows And Black Trees, The Dark Grey Sky Above. A Pure World, Sansa Thought. I Do Not Belong Here. Yet She Stepped Out All The Same.

Every Flight Begins With A Fall.

One Of The Things I Love, And I'm A Voracious Reader As Well As A Writer, Is Books That Surprise Me, That Are Not Predictable.

I Have Been Despised By Better Men Than You.

A Reader Lives A Thousand Lives Before He Dies, Said Jojen. The Man Who Never Reads Lives Only One.

She Is Not Truly Beautiful But Something About Her Draws The Eye.

I Must Show No Fear, No Weakness, No Doubt.

I'm Honest. It's The World That's Awful.

A Good Act Does Not Wash Out The Bad, Nor A Bad Act The Good. Each Should Have Its Own Reward.

That Was The Way Of This Cold World, Where Men Fished The Sea And Dug In The Ground And Died, Whilst Women Brought Forth Short-lived Children From Beds Of Blood And Pain.

Ofttimes A Very Small Man Can Cast A Very Large Shadow. Tyrion Smiled. Lord Varys, I Am Growing Strangely Fond Of You. I May Kill You Yet, But I Think I'd Feel Sad About It. I Will Take That As High Praise.

We Read Fantasy To Find The Colors Again, I Think. To Taste Strong Spices And Hear The Songs The Sirens Sang.

There Is A Savage Beast In Every Man, And When You Hand That Man A Sword Or Spear And Send Him Forth To War, The Beast Stirs.

Words Are Wind, Brienne Told Herself. They Cannot Hurt You. Let Them Wash Over You.

Summer Is The Time For Squabbles. In Winter, We Must Protect One Another, Keep Each Other Warm, Share Our Strengths.

Trust Is Earned. Like Gold.

The World Is Full Of Cravens Who Pretended To Be Heroes.

I Wrote Six Pilots, None Of Which Ever Got Picked Up. When You Stop Trying, It Then It Falls In Your Lap.

How Do You Fight Someone If You Can't Hit Them?

Anger Was Better Than Tears, Better Than Grief, Better Than Guilt.

I Know Who's Going To Be On The Throne [in The Gameof Thrones], At The End, So I Better Not Say. But, There Will Be A Few People Sitting On It, Before The End.

And Pray That He Is The Man I Think He Is, He Finished Silently, And Not The Man I Fear He Has Become.

An Awful Lot Of Fantasy, And Even Some Great Fantasy, Falls Into The Mistake Of Assuming That A Good Man Will Be A Good King, That All That Is Necessary Is To Be A Decent Human Being And When You're King Everything Will Go Swimmingly.

I Heard Of A Man Who Had A Razor Made Of Valyrian Steel. He Cut His Head Off Trying To Shave.

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