We Look Up At The Same Stars

The Gods Don’t Care About Men, No More Than Kings Care About Peasants.

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.

He Was Beastly Tired, But It Was Hard To Stop. One More Book, He Had Told Himself, Then I'll Stop. One More Folio, Just One More. One More Page, Then I'll Go Up And Rest And Get A Bite To Eat. But There Was Always Another Page After That One, And Another After That, And Another Book Waiting Underneath The Pile. I'll Just Take A Quick Peek To See What This One Is About, He'd Think, And Before He Knew He Would Be Halfway Through It.

"you Look Different Now. Like A Proper Little Girl," (said Gendry.) "i Look Like An Oak Tree, With All These Stupid Acorns," (said Arya.) "nice, Though. A Nice Oak Tree. [...] You Even Smell Nice For A Change."

Kill The Boy, Jon Snow. Winter Is Almost Upon Us. Kill The Boy And Let The Man Be Born.