Half-truths Are Worth More Than Outright Lies.

Soon Comes The Cold, And The Night That Never Ends.

I Have The Virtue Of Being Still Amongst The Living. Some Would Say That Is My Only Virtue.

I Take No Joy In Mead Nor Meat, And Song And Laughter Have Become Suspicious Strangers To Me. I Am A Creature Of Grief And Dust And Bitter Longings. There Is An Empty Place Within Me Where My Heart Was Once.

What Do You Like To Do?” She Scuffed A Toe Amongst The Rushes. “needlework.” “very Restful, Isn’t It?” “well,” Said Arya, “not The Way I Do It.

Kill Me, And Be Cursed. You Are No King Of Mine.