George R.R. Martin Quotes

We're all just songs in the end. If we are lucky.

There are no heroes...in life, the monsters win.

Women do not forget. Women do not forgive.

There is an empty place within me where my heart once was.

All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes

I've never been quite sure what the point of a eunuch is, if truth be told. It seems to me they're only men with the useful bits cut off.

Not all men were meant to dance with dragons.

Shagga son of Dolf likes this not. Shagga will go with the boyman, and if the boyman lies, Shagga will chop off his manhood-" "-and feed it to the goats, yes," Tyrion said wearily.

No one will be alive by the last book. In fact, they all die in the fifth. The sixth book will be just a thousand-page description of snow blowing across the graves.

On the gallows tree, all men are brothers.

‎[Melisandre] "His Grace is growing fond of you." [Jon] "I can tell. He only threatened to behead me twice." Page 58

Some truths did not bear saying, and some lies were necessary.

Sometimes the best way to baffle them is to make moves that have no purpose, or even seem to work against you

Give me a good sharp knife and a good sharp cheese and I’m a happy man.

The only game. The game of thrones.

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.

Tears aren't a woman's only weapon.

What was it Catelyn Stark had called them, that night at Bitterbridge? The knights of summer. And now it was autumn and they were falling like leaves.

I rose too high, loved too hard, dared too much. I tried to grasp a star, overreached, and fell.

And I tell you truly, Danaerys, there is no man in all the world who will ever be half so true to you as me.

Old stories are like old friends, she used to say. You have to visit them from time to time.

Why is it always the innocents who suffer most, when you high lords play your game of thrones?

Everything's better with some wine in the belly.

This world is twisted beyond hope, when lowborn smugglers must vouch for the honor of kings.

All my life men like you've sneered at me, and all my life I've been knocking men like you into the dust.

Robb: Uncle Benjen said to send you to the stables if I saw you. Jon: I have one more farewell to make. Robb: Then I haven't seen you.

his snores sounded like ducks mating.

The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer’s farce is almost done. My son is home.

And pray that he is the man I think he is, he finished silently, and not the man I fear he has become.

Men are mad and gods are madder, she told the grass, and the grass murmured its agreement.

Those are brave men... lets go kill them

If ice can burn, then love and hate can mate.

Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.

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?

I want to weep, she thought. I want to be comforted. I'm so tired of being strong. I want to be foolish and frightened for once. Just for a small while, that's all....a day.....an hour.

Men have scars, women mysteries.

If I look back I am lost.

The letter . . . What did your lords make of it, I wonder?” Stannis snorted. “Celtigar pronounced it admirable. If I showed him the contents of my privy, he would declare that admirable as well.

Pyp had stabbed a turnip with his knife. "The night is dark and full of turnips," he announced in a solemn voice. "Let us all pray for venison, my children, with some onions and a bit of tasty gravy.

The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer.

Dark wings, dark words.

Ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow.

One voice may speak you false, but in many there is always truth to be found.

For they are the knights of summer, and winter is coming.

You'll find truth in your looking glass, not on the tongues of men.

None of us is ever ready,' he (Ned) said. 'For knighthood?' 'For death.

I have an instinctual distrust of conventional happy endings.

There’s part of me that loves words. But sometimes it feels like you’re trying to drive nails with your shoe.

When we speak of the morrow nothing is ever certain.

Some gave me soft words and some blunt, some made excuses, some promises, some only lied. In the end words are just wind.