The Distinction Between Literary And Genre Fiction

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.

The Apples Stewed With Prunes Are Excellent, Except For The Prunes, I Won't Eat Prunes Myself. Well, There Was One Time When Hobb Chopped Them Up With Chesnuts And Carrots And Hid Them In A Hen. Never Trust A Cook, My Lord. They'll Prune You When You Least Expect It.

Why Do Our Dreams Become So Much Smaller When They Finally Come True?

As A Writer, My Goal, (which I'm Never Going To Achieve, And I Know That, And No Writer Can Achieve That,) But My Goal Is To Make You Almost Live The Books. I Want You To Fall Through That Page And Feel As If These Things Are Happening To You.

And Who Are You, The Proud Lord Said That I Must Bow So Low? Only A Cat Of A Different Coat, That's All The Truth I Know. In A Coat Of Gold Or A Coat Of Red, A Lion Still Has Claws. And, Mine Are As Long And Sharp, My Lord As Long And Sharp As Yours. And So He Spoke, And So He Spoke, That Lord Of Castamere, But Now The Rains Weep O'er His Hall, With No One There To Hear. Yes, Now The Rains Weep O'er His Hall, And Not A Soul To Hear.