Quotes by George R.R. Martin

He drew the dagger and laid it on the table between them; a length of dragonbone and Valyrian steel, as sharp as the difference between right and wrong, between true and false, between life and death.

Half-truths are worth more than outright lies.

Fat men take a cushion with them wherever they go.

The hard truths are the ones to hold tight.-The Old Bear, A Game of Thrones

It is one thing to be clever and another to be wise.

Is it so far from madness to wisdom? - Daenerys Targaryen

Laughter is poison to fear.

You ought to be blowing me kisses, wench.

Dream anything hard enough, and it can be yours.

Jon Snow, is this a proper castle now? Not just a tower?”“It is.” Jon took her hand.“Good,” she whispered. “I wanted t’ see one proper castle, before … before I …”“You’ll see hundred castles. The battle’s done. Maester Aemon will see to you. You’re kissed by fire, remember? Lucky. It will take more than an arrow to kill you. Aemon will draw it out and patch you up, and we’ll get milk of the poppy for the pain.”She just smiled at that. “D’you remember that cave? We should have stayed in that cave. I told you so.”“We’ll go back to the cave,” he said.” You’re not going to die, Ygritte. You’re not.”“Oh.” Ygritte cupped his cheek with her hand. “You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she sighed, dying.

Was there ever a war where only one side bled?

She had no time for sleep, with the weight of the world upon her shoulders. And she feared to dream. Sleep is a little death, dreams the whisperings of the Other, who would drag us all into his eternal night.

Why wont they let me be? I just need to rest, thats all, to rest and sleep some, and maybe die a little.

The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

This was how an enemy should be dealt with: with a dagger, not a declaration.

I prefer my history dead. Dead history is writ in ink, the living sort in blood.Do you want to die old and craven in your bed?How else? Though not till Im done reading.

What are you doing to me?” he asked the crow, tearful. Teaching you how to fly. “I can’t fly!” You’re flying right now. “I’m falling!” Every flight begins with a fall, the crow said.

There are worse ways to die than warm and drunk.

I think there are two types of writers, the architects and the gardeners. The architects plan everything ahead of time, like an architect building a house. They know how many rooms are going to be in the house, what kind of roof theyre going to have, where the wires are going to run, what kind of plumbing theres going to be. They have the whole thing designed and blueprinted out before they even nail the first board up. The gardeners dig a hole, drop in a seed and water it. They kind of know what seed it is, they know if planted a fantasy seed or mystery seed or whatever. But as the plant comes up and they water it, they dont know how many branches its going to have, they find out as it grows. And Im much more a gardener than an architect.

Some writers enjoy writing, I am told. Not me. I enjoy having written.