A Bear! A Bear! All Black And

Don’t Call Me Lord Snow.” The Dwarf Lifted An Eyebrow. “would You Rather Be Called The Imp? Let Them See That Their Words Can Cut You And You’ll Never Be Free Of The Mockery. If They Want To Give You A Name Take It Make It Your Own. Then They Can’t Hurt You With It Anymore.

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

The Best Calumnies Are Spiced With Truth.

Give Me Priests Who Are Fat And Corrupt And Cynical,(...) The Sort Who Like To Sit On Soft Satin Cushions, Nibble Sweetmeats, And Diddle Little Boys. It's The Ones Who Believe In Gods Who Make The Trouble. (tyrion)

She Yearned To See Her Mother Again, And Robb And Bran And Rickon… But It Was Jon Snow She Thought Of Most. She Wished Somehow They Could Come To The Wall Before Winterfell, So Jon Might Muss Up Her Hair And Call Her “little Sister.” She’d Tell Him, “i Missed You,” And He’d Say It Too At The Very Same Moment, The Way They Always Used To Say Things Together. She Would Have Liked That. She Would Have Liked That Better Than Anything.