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I've Always Taken That As My Guiding Principle And The Rest Is Just Set Dressing. You Can Have Dragons In It, Or Aliens And Starships, Or A Western About A Gunslinger, Or Even Literary Fiction, And Ultimately You're Still Writing About The Human Heart In Conflict With Itself.

-George R. R. Martin

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I've Always Taken That

George R. R. Martin

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I've Always Taken That As My Guiding Principle And The Rest Is Just Set Dressing. You Can Have Dragons In It, Or Aliens And Starships, Or A Western About A Gunslinger, Or Even Literary Fiction, And Ultimately You're Still Writing About The Human Heart In Conflict With Itself.

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She Yearned To See Her Mother Again, And Robb And Bran And Rickon… But It Was Jon Snow She Thought Of Most. She Wished Somehow They Could Come To The Wall Before Winterfell, So Jon Might Muss Up Her Hair And Call Her “little Sister.” She’d Tell Him, “i Missed You,” And He’d Say It Too At The Very Same Moment, The Way They Always Used To Say Things Together. She Would Have Liked That. She Would Have Liked That Better Than Anything.

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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.

The Man Who Passes The Sentence Should Swing The Sword.

Dark Wings, Dark Words.

Those Are Brave Men," He Told Ser Balon In Admiration. "let's Go Kill Them.

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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 Want You To Be Afraid To Turn The Page (and To Do That) You Need To Show Right From The Beginning That You're Playing For Keeps.

If You Need Help Bark Like A Dog." - Gendry. "that's Stupid. If I Need Help I'll Shout Help." - Arya

All Men Carry Murder In Their Hearts, Yet Even So, The Poisoner Is Beneath Contempt.

Let Me Tell You Something About Wolves, Child. When The Snows Fall And The White Winds Blow, The Lone Wolf Dies, But The Pack Survives. In Winter, We Must Protect One Another, Keep Each Other Warm, Share Our Strengths. So If You Must Hate, Arya, Hate Those Who Would Truly Do Us Harm.

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.

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They'll Kill For That Knighthood, But Don't Ever Think They'll Die For It.

The Brightest Flame Casts The Darkest Shadow.

Fiction Is Lies; We're Writing About People Who Never Existed And Events That Never Happened When We Write Fiction, Whether Its Science Fiction Or Fantasy Or Western Mystery Stories Or So-called Literary Stories. All Those Things Are Essentially Untrue. But It Has To Have A Truth At The Core Of It.

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He Did Not Know Which Was More Painful, The Waking Or The Sleeping. When He Slept, He Dreamed: Dark Disturbing Dreams Of Blood And Broken Promises. When He Woke, There Was Nothing To Do But Think, And His Waking Thoughts Were Worse Than Nightmares.

She Would Die As She Had Lived, With An Axe In Her Hand And A Laugh Upon Her Lips.

Some Old Wounds Never Truly Heal, And Bleed Again At The Slightest Word.

Don’t Call Me Lord Snow.” The Dwarf Lifted An Eyebrow. “would You Rather Be Called The Imp? Let Them See That Their Words Can Cut You And You’ll Never Be Free Of The Mockery. If They Want To Give You A Name Take It Make It Your Own. Then They Can’t Hurt You With It Anymore.

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And The Mystery Knight Should Defeat All Challengers And Name The Wolf Maid The Queen Of Love And Beauty.

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I Love You Too, Sweet Sister. But You're A Fool. A Beautiful Golden Fool.

There Are Two Kinds Of Writers. There Are Architects And Gardeners. The Architects Do Blueprints Before They Drive The First Nail. The Gardeners Just Dig A Hole And Plant The Seed And See What Comes Up.

If I Wanted To Honor You, I´d Let You Retire. I Am Planing To Make You Run The Kingdom And Fight The Wars While I Eat And Drink

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.

What Is Dead May Never Die, But Rises Again, Stronger And Harder.

The Lord Of Light In His Wisdom Made Us Male And Female, Two Parts Of A Greater Whole. In Our Joining There Is Power. Power To Make Life. Power To Make Light. Power To Cast Shadows.

We All Dream Of Things We Cannot Have.

We Were King’s Men, Knights, And Heroes . . . But Some Knights Are Dark And Full Of Terror, My Lady. War Makes Monsters Of Us All.” “are You Saying You Are Monsters?” “i Am Saying We Are Human. You Are Not The Only One With Wounds, Lady Brienne

The Cable Makers Are The Ones Who Are Willing To Take Risks And Do Something Original And Push The Envelope Some.

Pushing The Envelope

A Hedge Knight Must Hold Tight To His Pride. Without It, He Was No More Than A Sellsword

As Faulkner Says, All Of Us Have The Capacity In Us For Great Good And For Great Evil, For Love But Also For Hate. I Wanted To Write Those Kinds Of Complex Character In A Fantasy, And Not Just Have All The Good People Get Together To Fight The Bad Guy.

I Hate Outlines. I Have A Broad Sense Of Where The Story Is Going; I Know The End, I Know The End Of The Principal Characters, And I Know The Major Turning Points And Events From The Books, The Climaxes For Each Book, But I Don't Necessarily Know Each Twist And Turn Along The Way. That's Something I Discover In The Course Of Writing And That's What Makes Writing Enjoyable. I Think If I Outlined Comprehensively And Stuck To The Outline The Actual Writing Would Be Boring.

Robert Was Never The Same After He Put On That Crown. Some Men Are Like Swords, Made For Fighting. Hang Them Up And They Go To Rust.

I Worked Out Of Hollywood For 10 Years And I Had My Heart Broken Half A Dozen Times, So I Know All The Things That Can Go Wrong.

Much As I Admire Tolkien, I Once Again Always Felt Like Gandalf Should Have Stayed Dead. That Was Such An Incredible Sequence In Fellowship Of The Ring When He Faces The Balrog On The Khazad-dûm And He Falls Into The Gulf, And His Last Words Are, "fly, You Fools." What Power That Had, How That Grabbed Me. And Then He Comes Back As Gandalf The White, And If Anything He's Sort Of Improved. I Never Liked Gandalf The White As Much As Gandalf The Grey, And I Never Liked Him Coming Back. I Think It Would Have Been An Even Stronger Story If Tolkien Had Left Him Dead.

Sometimes He Could Almost Forget That It Was There, The Way You Forget About The Sky Or The Earth Underfoot, But There Were Other Times When It Seemed As If There Was Nothing Else In The World.

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." He Touched Her Lightly With Two Fingers. "some Liars Blink. Some Stare. Some Look Away. Some Lick Their Lips. Many Coer Their Mouths Just Before They Tell A Lie, As If To Hide Their Deceit. Other Signs May Be More Subtle, But They Are Always There. A False Smile And A True One May Look Alike, But They Are As Different As Dusk From Dawn.

Those Are Brave Men... Lets Go Kill Them

If H. P. Lovecraft And H. L. Mencken Had Ever Collaborated, They Might Have Come Up With Something Like The Edge Of Reason. This One Will Delight Thinkers-and Outrage True Believers-of All Stripes.

And Who Are You, The Proud Lord Said That I Must Bow So Low? Only A Cat Of A Different Coat, That's All The Truth I Know. In A Coat Of Gold Or A Coat Of Red, A Lion Still Has Claws. And, Mine Are As Long And Sharp, My Lord As Long And Sharp As Yours. And So He Spoke, And So He Spoke, That Lord Of Castamere, But Now The Rains Weep O'er His Hall, With No One There To Hear. Yes, Now The Rains Weep O'er His Hall, And Not A Soul To Hear.

The Only Game. The Game Of Thrones.

Fire Consumes, But Cold Preserves.

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

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.

...spend My Time Warring And Whoring, That's What I Was Made For.

Some Battles Are Won With Swords And Spears, Others With Quills And Ravens.

What Do You Like To Do?” She Scuffed A Toe Amongst The Rushes. “needlework.” “very Restful, Isn’t It?” “well,” Said Arya, “not The Way I Do It.

Every Man Should Lose A Battle In His Youth, So He Does Not Lose A War When He Is Old.

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

Most Men Would Rather Deny A Hard Truth Than Face It.

A Woman's Life Is Nine Parts Mess To One Part Magic, You'll Learn That Soon Enough...and The Parts That Look Like Magic Turn Out To Be The Messiest Of All.

Time Is Different For A Tree Than For A Man. Sun And Soil And Water, These Are The Things A Weirwood Understands, Not Days And Years And Centuries. For Men, Time Is A River. We Are Trapped In Its Flow, Hurtling From Past To Present, Always In The Same Direction. The Lives Of Trees Are Different. They Root And Grow And Die In One Place, And That River Does Not Move Them. The Oak Is The Acorn, The Acorn Is The Oak.

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.

That Man Said He’d Take Your Head Too.” “well, As To That,” Yoren Said, “if He Can Get It Off My Shoulders, He’s Welcome To It.

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 They Refuse. They Cling To The Realm, Or The Gods, Or Love. Illusions. Only The Ladder Is Real. The Climb Is All There Is.

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

Madness And Greatness Are Two Sides Of The Same Coin. Every Time A New Targaryen Is Born, The Gods Toss The Coin In The Air And The World Holds Its Breath To See How It Will Land.

If I Could Wish The Kingslayer Back In Chains I Would. You Freed Him Without My Knowledge Or Consent... But What You Did, I Know You Did For Love. For Arya And Sansa, And Out Of Grief For Bran And Rickon. Love’s Not Always Wise, I’ve Learned. It Can Lead Us To Great Folly, But We Follow Our Hearts... Wherever They Take Us. Don’t We, Mother?

Aemon’s Blind White Eyes Came Open. “egg?” He Said, As The Rain Streamed Down His Cheeks. “egg, I Dreamed That I Was Old.

I'm A Strong Believer In Telling Stories Through A Limited But Very Tight Third Person Point Of View. I Have Used Other Techniques During My Career, Like The First Person Or The Omniscient View Point, But I Actually Hate The Omniscient Viewpoint. None Of Us Have An Omniscient Viewpoint; We Are Alone In The Universe. We Hear What We Can Hear... We Are Very Limited. If A Plane Crashes Behind You I Would See It But You Wouldn't. That's The Way We Perceive The World And I Want To Put My Readers In The Head Of My Characters.

On The Gallows Tree, All Men Are Brothers.

The City?" Tyrion Was Lost. "what City Would That Be?" "king's Landing. I Am Sending You To Court." It Was The Last Thing Tyrion Lannister Would Ever Have Anticipated. He Reached For His Wine, Considered For A Moment As He Sipped. "and What Am I To Do There?" "rule," His Father Said Curtly.

The Morning Had Dawned Clear And Cold, With A Crispness That Hinted At The End Of Summer.

Littlefinger: A Trade Envoy From Lys Once Observed To Me That Lord Stannis Must Love His Daughter Very Well, Since He'd Erected Hundreds Of Statues Of Her All Along The Walls Of Dragonstone. Tyrion: My Lord, Those Are Gargoyles.

Arya Lifted Her Gaze From The Dead Man And His Dead Dog. Jaqen H'ghar Was Leaning Up Against The Side Of The Wailing Tower. When He Saw Her Looking, He Lifted A Hand To His Face And Laid Two Fingers Casually Against His Cheek.

You Would Consider Me An Atheist Or Agnostic. I Find Religion And Spirituality Fascinating. I Would Like To Believe This Isn’t The End And There’s Something More, But I Can’t Convince The Rational Part Of Me That That Makes Any Sense Whatsoever.

Mother, I Want To See Him Fly!

A Lord Must Learn That Sometimes Words Can Accomplish What Swords Cannot.

A Crown Should Not Sit Easy On The Head.

This Is Not Winterfell', He Told Him As He Cut His Meat With Fork And Dagger. 'on The Wall, A Man Gets Only What He Earns. You're No Ranger, Jon, Only A Green Boy With The Smell Of Summer Still On You.

Summer Will End Soon Enough, And Childhood As Well.

She Had Never Loved Him So Much As She Did In That Instant.

Any Act Can Be A Prayer, If Done As Well As We Are Able.

Jon Snow Had Dreamed Of Leading Men To Glory Just As King Daeron Had, Of Growing Up To Be A Conqueror. Now He Was A Man Grown And The Wall Was His, Yet All He Had Were Doubts. He Could Not Even Seem To Conquer Those.

Nothing Someone Says Before The Word 'but' Really Counts.

My Brother Has His Sword, King Robert Has His Warhammer And I Have My Mind...and A Mind Needs Books As A Sword Needs A Whetstone If It Is To Keep Its Edge. That's Why I Read So Much Jon Snow.

No Fight Is Hopeless Till It Has Been Fought.

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.

Shagga Son Of Dolf Likes This Not. Shagga Will Go With The Boyman, And If The Boyman Lies, Shagga Will Chop Off His Manhood-" "-and Feed It To The Goats, Yes," Tyrion Said Wearily.

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.

Trust Is Earned. Like Gold.

Of Course It’s Not Enough To Be A Good Man To Be An Effective Ruler And It Never Has Been.

A Reader Lives A Thousand Lives Before He Dies.

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 To Vomit On Your Brother.

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.

This World Is Twisted Beyond Hope, When Lowborn Smugglers Must Vouch For The Honor Of Kings.

Bear Island Knows No King But The King In The North, Whose Name Is Stark.

She Went To The Window Seat And Sat There, Sniffling, Hating Them All, And Herself Most Of All. It Was All Her Fault, Everything Bad That Had Happened.

It Was Astonishing To See How Angry Cersei Could Wax Over Accusations She Knew Perfectly Well To Be True.

The Iron Throne Is Mine By Rights. All Those Who Deny That Are My Foes." "the Whole Of The Realm Denies It, Brother," Said Renley. "old Men Deny It With Their Death Rattle, And Unborn Children Deny It In Their Mothers' Wombs. They Deny It In Dorne And They Deny It On The Wall. No One Wants You For Their King. Sorry.

Why Should Death Make A Man Truthful, Or Even Clever? The Dead Are Likely Dull Fellows, Full Of Tedious Complaints - The Ground's Too Cold, My Gravestone Should Be Larger, Why Does He Get More Worms Than I Do.

Is It Treason To Say The Truth? A Bitter Truth, But No Less True For That.

What Would A Frey Know Of Honor? - Sir Davos Seaworth

It Was A Hollow Victory They Gave Me. A Crown...it Was The Girl I Prayed Them For. Your Sister, Safe... And Mine Again As She Was Meant To Be. I Ask You, Ned, What Good Is It To Wear A Crown?

Power Resides Where Men Believe It To Reside.

Have A Care How You Speak To Me, Imp. Doubtless He Meant To Sound Threatening, But That Absurd Wisp Of A Mustache Ruined The Effect.

They Hate You Because You Act Like You're Better Than They Are

Most Have Been Forgotten. Most Deserve To Be Forgotten. The Heroes Will Always Be Remembered. The Best. The Best And The Worst. And A Few Who Were A Bit Of Both.

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