Something About The Howling Of A Wolf

Power Is A Trick. It Lies Where We Believe It Lies.

If We Leave Our Smells Behind Us When We Leave A Room, Surely Something Of Our Souls Must Remain When We Leave This Life?" - Qyburn

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

For They Are The Knights Of Summer, And Winter Is Coming.

You Could Make A Poultice Out Of Mud To Cool A Fever. You Could Plant Seeds In Mud And Grow A Crop To Feed Your Children. Mud Would Nourish You, Where Fire Would Only Consume You, But Fools And Children And Young Girls Would Choose Fire Every Time.