Some Doors Are Best Left Closed.

Needle Was Robb And Bran And Rickon, Her Mother And Her Father, Even Sansa. Needle Was Winterfell's Grey Walls, And The Laughter Of Its People. Needle Was The Summer Snows, Old Nan's Stories, The Heart Tree With Its Red Leaves And Scary Face, The Warm Earthy Smell Of The Glass Gardens, The Sound Of The North Wind Rattling The Shutters Of Her Room. Needle Was Jon Snow's Smile. He Used To Mess My Hair And Call Me "little Sister," She Remembered, And Suddenly There Were Tears In Her Eyes.

I Am Not Going To Get Into It Myself, Except To Say (1) If I Am Writing "boy Fiction," Who Are All Those Boys With Breasts Who Keep Turning Up By The Hundreds At My Signings And Readings? And (2) Thank You, Geek Girls! I Love You All.

Every Man Should Lose A Battle In His Youth, So He Does Not Lose A War When He Is Old.

Some Writers Enjoy Writing, I Am Told. Not Me. I Enjoy Having Written.

You Wear Your Honor Like A Suit Of Armor... You Think It Keeps You Safe, But All It Does Is Weigh You Down And Make It Hard For You To Move.