Catelyn wanted to run to him, to kiss his sweet brow, to wrap him in her arms so tightly that he would never come to harm....

George R.R. Martin

Mots clés mother son a-game-of-thrones catelyn-stark mothers-love robb starks



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– Lehet valaki bátor, miközben fél?
– Egy férfi csakis akkor lehet bátor – válaszolta az apja.

George R.R. Martin


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Give the wilding an axe, why not?" He pointed out Mormont's weapon, a short-hafted battle-axe with gold scrollwork inlaid on the black steel blade. "He'll give it back, I vow. Buried in the Old Bear's skull, like as not. why not give him all our axes, and our swords as well? I mislike the way the clank and rattle as we ride. We'd travel faster without them, straight to hell's door. Does it rain in hell, I wonder? Perhaps Craster would like a nice hat instead."
Jon smiled. "He wants an axe. And wine as well."
"See, the Old Bear's clever. If we get the wildling well and truly drunk, perhaps he'll only cut off an ear when he tries to slay us with that axe. I have two ears but only one head.

George R.R. Martin

Mots clés dark-humor sarcastic-humor



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Oh, It's truth you want? Be careful, my lady. Tyrion says that people often claim to hunger for the truth, but seldom like the taste when it's served up.

George R.R. Martin

Mots clés true-to-life



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If I were Mace Tyrell, I would sooner have Joffrey's head on a pike than his cock in my daughter.

George R.R. Martin

Mots clés humor



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A nyár hamar véget ér, ahogyan a gyermekkor is.

George R.R. Martin


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Every man should lose a battle in his youth, so he does not lose a war when he is old.

George R.R. Martin

Mots clés life truth war battle warrior solemn



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

George R.R. Martin

Mots clés evil death dangerous



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Fat men take a cushion with them wherever they go.

George R.R. Martin

Mots clés truth humour funny hilarious humourous



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Tyrion Lannister sniggered. That was when Catelyn knew he was hers. “This man came a guest into my house, and there conspired to murder my son, a boy of seven,” she proclaimed to the room at large, pointing. Ser Rodrik moved to her side, his sword in hand. “In the name of King Robert and the good lords you serve, I call upon you to seize him and help me return him to Winterfell to await the king’s justice.”

She did not know what was more satisfying: the sound of a dozen swords drawn as one or the look on Tyrion Lannister’s face.

George R.R. Martin

Mots clés tyrion-lannister catylyn-stark



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