Food to eat and games to play.
Tell me why, tell me why.
Serve it out and eat it up.
Have a try, have a try.
Take him away. Prepare a feast. Forget nothing. My crown: the golden cutlery. The poison bottles; and the fumes; the wreaths of ivy and the bloody joints; the chains; the bowl of nettles; the spices; the baskets of fresh grass; the skulls and spines; the ribs and shoulder-blades. Forget nothing or, by the blindness of my sockets, I will have your hearts out. Take him away...
Mervyn PeakeTag: lamb poison blindness bones hearts feast crown
My books are a word feast.
Lori R. LopezTag: words reading books language books-reading book reading-books feast
They lurk in the cold and dark.Hungry and,wicked,they wait for their one chance to devour the weak on Sorry Night.Then the vours feast on a banquet of fear.Your fear.They steal your soul but your body remains.No one knows the difference.
Simon HoltJon:'What are you doing up there? Why aren't you at the feast?'
Tyrion: 'Too hot, too noisy, and I'd drunk too much wine', the dwarf told him. 'I learned long ago that it is considered rude to vomit on your brother.
Tag: alcohol drunk feast dwarf a-song-of-ice-and-fire jon-snow tyrion-lannister
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.
Tag: funny prince ironic arya feast a-song-of-ice-and-fire sansa george-r-r-martin a-game-of-thrones joffrey winterfell
Those were the people who made her something, and without them she was different. She'd held on to them and to that old self tenaciously, though. She clung to it, celebrated it, worshipped it even, instead of constructing a new grown-up life for herself. For years she'd been eating the cold crumbs left over from a great feast, living on them as though they could last her forever.
Ann BrasharesTag: life different eating forever something feast years grown-up celebrated crumbs old-self tenaciously worshipped
The master and mistress of the house and the rest of the Blood -even the Crux himself- brought our food, poured the wine, did our bidding. The centerpiece was a roasted stag. crowned with gilded antlers and stuffed with songbirds; they had hunted well. We were forbidden to kill the deer that fattened on our coleworts and stole our grain, and the venison tasted all the better for the salt of revenge.
Sarah MicklemTag: revenge deer feast peasants venison
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