Death is a bored clerk, with too many orders to fill. There is no reckoning. No profound moment. It creeps up on us from behind, and snatches us away while we shit.
He is dead and I, the self serving coward that I am, still live. Life is not fair. There is no pattern. People die at random. Something everyone knows, but no one truly believes. They think that when it comes to them there will be a lesson, a meaning...
Names turned over by time, like the plough turning the soil. Bringing up the new while the old were buried in the mud.
Armour... is part of a state of mind... in which you admit the possibility... of being hit.
The man is a monster. The worst I have ever seen, in fact, since I last looked in the mirror. The truth? I am rotting too. I am buried alive, and already rotting. If I was not such a coward I would kill myself, but I am, and so I must content myself ...
What’s the difference? Fill a hundred pits with dead Northmen, congratulations, have a parade! Kill one man in the same uniform as you? A crime. A murder. Worse than despicable. Are we not all men? All blood and bone and dreams?
I'm a fucking coward." "Maybe." Craw jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Whirrun's corpse. "There's a hero. Tell me who's better off.
So you love war. I used to think you were a decent man. But I see now I was mistaken. You're a hero.
Whirrun ignored ‘em. ‘Then, when I’ve got two cut,’ and he dropped a pale slab of cheese on one slice then slapped the other on top like he was catching a fly, ‘I trap the cheese between then, and there you have it!’ ‘Bread and cheese.�...
The truth is like salt. Men want to taste a little, but too much makes everyone sick.
Me atrevería a decir que un hechicero puede llegar a ser útil y demás, pero, o sea, ¿siempre tienen que actuar de una manera tan puñeteramente rara?
This is stupid." "Look. You think how stupid people are most of the time. Old men drink. Women at a village fair. Boys throwing stones at birds. Life. The foolishness and the vanity, the selfishness and the waste. The pettiness, the silliness. You th...
Get what you can with words, because words are free, but the words of an armed man ring that much sweeter.
Remember, though, that you are the king's observer, not the king's champion.
