All Dwarfs Are Bastards In Their Father's

Drifting Snowflakes Brushed Her Face As Light As Lover’s Kisses, And Melted On Her Cheeks. At The Center Of The Garden, Beside The Statue Of The Weeping Woman That Lay Broken And Half-buried On The Ground, She Turned Her Face Up To The Sky And Closed Her Eyes. She Could Feel The Snow On Her Lashes, Taste It On Her Lips. It Was The Taste Of Winterfell. The Taste Of Innocence. The Taste Of Dreams.

The Wide World Is Full Of People Wanting Help, Jon. Would That Some Could Find The Courage To Help Themselves. - Lord Commander Mormont

Do You Want To Die Old And Craven In Your Bed?- How Else? Though Not Till I'm Done Reading.

Tears Aren't A Woman's Only Weapon.

Dark Wings, Dark Words.