Was There Ever A War

We Were Talking About The Prince,' Sansa Said, Her Voice Soft As A Kiss. Arya Knew Which Prince She Meant: Joffrey, Of Course. The Tall, Handsome One. Sansa Got To Sit With Him At The Feast. Arya Had To Sit With The Little Fat One. Naturally.

Contempt, Thought Tyrion, The Universal Tongue.

A Lot Of Writing Takes Place In The Subconscious, And It's Bound To Have An Effect.

I Feel Satisfaction At The End Of The Day When I've Written A Scene That I Really Like Or When I Write A Good Line Of Dialogue That I Read Out To My Wife Or Something Like That. But There's Also Days Where It's Just Bloody Agony And I Go, 'ugh, This Is Such Crap! Why Did I Think I Had Any Talent?

All These Kings Would Do A Deal Better If They Would Put Down Their Swords And Listen To Their Mothers.