It's Different For Every Writer. It's Not

Winter Will Never Come For The Likes Of Us. Should We Die In Battle, They Will Surely Sing Of Us, And It’s Always Summer In The Songs. In The Songs All Knights Are Gallant, All Maids Are Beautiful, And The Sun Is Always Shining.

Love Is Madness, And Lust Is Poison.

Swift As A Deer. Quiet As A Shadow. Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords. Quick As A Snake. Calm As Still Water.

An Artist Has An Obligation To Tell The Truth. [...] That The True Horrors Of Human History Derive Not From Orcs And Dark Lords, But From Ourselves. We Are The Monsters. (and The Heroes Too). Each Of Us Has Within Himself The Capacity For Great Good, And Great Evil.

I Wonder What The High Septon Would Have To Say About The Sanctity Of Oaths Sworn While Dead Drunk, Chained To A Wall, With A Sword Pressed To Your Chest?