Mother, I Want To See Him Fly!

She Would Die As She Had Lived, With An Axe In Her Hand And A Laugh Upon Her Lips.

There Are No Happy Endings.

Why Should Death Make A Man Truthful, Or Even Clever? The Dead Are Likely Dull Fellows, Full Of Tedious Complaints - The Ground's Too Cold, My Gravestone Should Be Larger, Why Does He Get More Worms Than I Do.

But A Voice Inside Her Whispered, There Are No Heroes, And She Remembered What Lord Petyr Had Said To Her, Here In This Very Hall. 'life Is Not A Song, Sweetling,' He'd Told Her, 'you May Learn That One Day To Your Sorrow.' In Life, The Monsters Win, She Told Herself.

That Was The Way Of This Cold World, Where Men Fished The Sea And Dug In The Ground And Died, Whilst Women Brought Forth Short-lived Children From Beds Of Blood And Pain.