Men Are Men, Vows Are Words, And

My Skin Has Turned To Porcelain, To Ivory, To Steel.

What The King Dreams, The Hand Builds.

We're Setting Up Mechanisms Where We Can Kill Human Beings With Drones And Missiles Where You're Sitting At A Console And Pressing The Button. We Never Have To Hear Their Whimpering, Or Hear Them Begging For Their Mother, Or Dying In Horrible Realities Around Us. I Don't Know If That's Necessarily Such A Good Thing.

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.

Tyrion Let The Eunuch Help Him Mount. "lord Varys," He Said From The Saddle, "sometimes I Feel As Though You Are The Best Friend I Have In King's Landing And Sometimes I Feel You Are My Worst Enemy." "how Odd. I Think Quite The Same Of You.