I Knew That, When Writing A Book,

I Bet This Is A Brothel," She Whispered To Gendry. "you Don't Even Know What A Brothel Is." "i Do So," She Insisted. "it's Like An Inn, With Girls.

I Take No Joy In Mead Nor Meat, And Song And Laughter Have Become Suspicious Strangers To Me. I Am A Creature Of Grief And Dust And Bitter Longings. There Is An Empty Place Within Me Where My Heart Was Once.

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.

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.

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.