The Beauty Raised Her Eyes, The Only

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

The Heart Lies And The Head Plays Tricks On Us, But The Eyes See True. Look With Your Eyes. Hear With Your Ears. Taste With Your Mouth. Smell With Your Nose. Feel With Your Skin. Then Comes The Thinking, Afterward, And In A Way Knowing The Truth.

They Were Never My Pack, Not Even Hot Pie And Gendry. I Was Stupid To Think So, Just A Stupid Little Girl, And No Wolf At All.

He Understood The Way That You Could Sometimes Fall Right Into Them, As If Each Page Was A Hole Into Another World.

We Know Truth For The Cruel Instrument It Is. Beauty Is Infinitely Preferable To Truth.