Give A Thing A Name

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

Fantasy Is Silver And Scarlet, Indigo And Azure, Obsidian Veined With Gold And Lapis Lazuli. Reality Is Plywood And Plastic, Done Up In Mud Brown And Olive Drab. Fantasy Tastes Of Habaneros And Honey, Cinnamon And Cloves, Rare Red Meat And Wines As Sweet As Summer. Reality Is Beans And Tofu, And Ashes At The End.

Wine Makes All Things Possible. George R. R. Martin, The Mystery Knight A Cold Wind Was Blowing From The North, And It Made The Trees Rustle Like Living Things. George R. R. Martin, A Game Of Thrones Nothing Burns Like The Cold. George R. R. Martin, A Game Of Thrones Laughter Is Poison To Fear.

Let Me Tell You Something About Wolves, Child. When The Snows Fall And The White Winds Blow, The Lone Wolf Dies, But The Pack Survives. In Winter, We Must Protect One Another, Keep Each Other Warm, Share Our Strengths. So If You Must Hate, Arya, Hate Those Who Would Truly Do Us Harm.

Sometimes The Best Way To Baffle Them Is To Make Moves That Have No Purpose, Or Even Seem To Work Against You