George R.R. Martin

You don't just have people who wake up in the morning and say, "What evil things can I do today, because I'm Mr. Evil?" People do things for what they think are justified reasons. Everybody is the hero of their own story, and you have to keep that in mind. If you read a lot of history, as I do, even the worst and most monstrous people thought they were the good guys. We're all very tangled knots.

Much that may seem evil can be good.

A son for a son, heh. But that's a grandson...and he never was much use." --Walder Frey

A sweet fate oft hides a sinner's heart.

I often said that writers are of two types.There is the architect, which is one type. The architect, as if designing a building, lays out the entire novel at a time. He knows how many rooms there will be or what a roof will be made of or how high it will be, or where the plumbing will run and where the electrical outlets will be in its room. All that before he drives the first nail. Everything is there in the blueprint.And then there's the gardener who digs the hole in the ground, puts in the seed and waters it with his blood and sees what comes up. The gardener knows certain things. He's not completely ignorant. He knows whether he planted an oak tree, or corn, or a cauliflower. He has some idea of the shape but a lot of it depends on the wind and the weather and how much blood he gives it and so forth.No one is purely an architect or a gardener in terms of a writer, but many writers tend to one side or the other. I'm very much more a gardener.

If the novels are still being read in 50 years, no one is ever going to say: __hat__ great about that sixth book is that he met his deadline!_ It will be about how the whole thing stands up.

And it__ great to have all these readers and fans who, for the most part, are very nice people, saying they love the books and the TV show. But there are so many of them and it just doesn__ end. Oh, and __elfies_! If I could clap my hands and burn out every camera phone in the world, I swear I__ do it!

I am the sword in the darkness.

Are you certain they never cut your member off?" Tormund gave a shrug, as if to say he would never understand such madness. "Well, you are a free man now, but if you will have the girl, best find yourself a she-bear. If a man does not use his member it grows smaller and smaller, until one day he wants to piss and cannot find it.

_When you__e know me longer, you__l learn that I mean everything I say.___ven the lies?___specially the lies. Lord Petyr_

I only need half my wits to be a match for you.

Now, how do you suppose this queen will react when you turn up with your begging bowl in hand and say, 'Good morrow to you, Auntie. I am your nephew, Aegon, returned from the dead. I've been hiding on a poleboat all my life, but now I've washed the blue dye from my hair and I'd like a dragon, please...and oh, did I mention, my claim to the Iron Throne is stronger than your own?

All the world knew that a maester forged his silver link when he learned the art of healing__ut the world preferred to forget that men who knew how to heal also knew how to kill.

The strongest trees are rooted in the dark places of the earth. Darkness will be your cloak, your shield, your mother's milk. Darkness will make you strong.

Laughter is poison to fear.

It was pleasant to think that men still sang, even in the midst of butchery and famine.

Time is different for a tree than for a man. Sun and soil and water, these are the things a weirwood understands, not days and years and centuries. For men, time is a river. We are trapped in its flow, hurtling from past to present, always in the same direction. The lives of trees are different. They root and grow and die in one place, and that river does not move them. The oak is the acorn, the acorn is the oak.

Oh yes, it hurts at times to be alone among the stars. But it hurts a lot more to be alone at a party. A lot more.