The Air Smelled Of Paper And Dust

Turtles Have Always Been My Sigil, I Suppose. When I Was A Kid, Growing Up In Bayonne, Nj, I Lived In A Federal Housing Project, And We Were Not Allowed To Have A Dog Or Cats. The Only Pets I Could Have Were Turtles. So, I Had An Entire Toy Castle Filled With Dime-store Turtles. I Gave Them All Names, And Since They Were Living In A Toy Castle, I Decided They Were All Knights And Kingsand I Made Up Stories About How They Killed Each Other And Betrayed Each Other And Fought For The Kingdom. So, Game Of Thrones, Actually Began With Turtles. I Decided Later To Recast It With Actual Human Beings.

A Few Days Ago She Had Been Wandering Around With A Swatch Of Black Silk Tied Over Her Eyes. Syrio Was Teaching Her To See With Her Ears And Her Nose And Her Skin, She Told Him. Before That, He Had Her Doing Spinds And Back Flips. "arya, Are You Certain You Want To Persist In This?" She Nodded. "tomorrow We're Going To Catch Cats." "cats." Ned Sighed.

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

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

An Admiral Without Ships, A Hand Without Fingers, In Service Of A King Without A Throne. Is This A Knight Who Comes Before Us, Or The Answer To A Child's Riddle?