Quotes by George R.R. Martin

The man who fears losing has already lost.

A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things.

Robb says the man died bravely, but Jon says he was afraid.What do you think? his father asked.Bran thought about it. can a man still be brave if hes afraid?That is the only time a man can be brave, his father told him.

His cloak was his crowning glory; sable, thick and black and soft as sin.

And if Im guilty of having gratuitous sex, then Im also guilty of having gratuitous violence, and gratuitous feasting, and gratuitous description of clothes, and gratuitous heraldry, because very little of this is necessary to advance the plot. But my philosophy is that plot advancement is not what the experience of reading fiction is about. If all we care about is advancing the plot, why read novels? We can just read Cliffs Notes.A novel for me is an immersive experience where I feel as if I have lived it and that Ive tasted the food and experienced the sex and experienced the terror of battle. So I want all of the detail, all of the sensory things—whether its a good experience, or a bad experience, I want to put the reader through it. To that mind, detail is necessary, showing not telling is necessary, and nothing is gratuitous.

When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.

My old grandmother always used to say, Summer friends will melt away like summer snows, but winter friends are friends forever.

Perhaps I cannot make my people good, she told herself, but I should at least try to make them a little less bad.

There is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs.

War seems like a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know. Then they get a taste of battle. For some, that one taste is enough to break them. Others go on for years, until they lose count of all the battles they have fought in, but even a man who has survived a hundred fights can break in his hundred-and-first. Brothers watch their brothers die, fathers lose their sons, friends see their friends trying to hold their entrails in after they’ve been gutted by an axe. They see the lord who led them there cut down, and some other lord shouts that they are his now, They take the wound, and when that’s still half-healed they take another. There is never enough to eat, their shoes fall to pieces from marching, their clothes are torn and rotting, and half of them are shitting in their breeches from drinking bad water.If they want new boots or a warmer cloak or maybe a rusted iron half helm, they need to take them from a corpse, and before long they are stealing from the living too, from the small folk whose land they’re fighting in, men very like the men they used to be. They slaughter their sheep and steal their chickens, and from there it’s just a short step to carrying off their daughters too. And one day they look around and realize all their friends and kin are gone, that they are fighting beside strangers beneath a banner that they hardly recognize. They don’t know where they are or how to get back home and the lord they’re fighting for does not know their names, yet here he comes, shouting for them to form up, to make a line with their spears and scythes and sharpened hoes, to stand their ground. And the knights come down on them, faceless men clad in all steel, and the iron thunder of their charge seems to fill the world.And the man breaks.

The storms come and go, the waves crash overhead, the big fish eat the little fish, and I keep on paddling. (Varys)

On armageddon day, Sandy said, both armies will think they fight for good. And both of them will be wrong.

Armageddon, Sandy said. The final battle. The ultimate confrontation between good and evil. Thats what armageddon is supposed to be. Right?Hobbins lifted a pale white eyebrow, said nothing.Which side are we? Sandy demanded. Which side are we?Thats one you got to work out yourself, friend. This aint like in Tolkien, is it?

...Prophecy is like a treacherous woman. She takes your member in her mouth, and you moan with the pleasure of it and think, how sweet, how fine, how good this is... and then her teeth snap shut and your moans turn to screams... Prophecy will bite your prick off everytime,

Gold has its uses, but war is won with iron.

Even in dreams, you could not fall forever.

One voyage to the East and a man could live as rich as a lord until the end of his days. When hed been younger, Davos had dreamed of making such voyages himself. But the years went dancing by like moths around a flame, and somehow the time had never been quite right.

The ground was so far below him, he could barely make it out through the grey mists that whirled around him, but he could feel how fast he was falling, and he knew what was waiting for him down there. Even in dreams, you could not fall forever. He would wake up in the instant before he hit the ground, he knew. You always woke in the instant before you hit the ground.

Every boy dreams of serving in the Kingsguard.

Dreams can lie, your Grace.