Anyone Can Be Killed.

The Odd Thing About Being A Writer Is You Do Tend To Lose Yourself In Your Books. Sometimes It Seems Like Real Life Is Flickering By And You're Hardly A Part Of It. You Remember The Events In Your Books Better Than You Remember The Events That Actually Took Place When You Were Writing Them.

I Never Wanted To See Half The Things I've Seen, And I've Never Seen Half The Things I Wanted To. I Don't Think Wanting Comes Into It. You'd Best Go All The Same.

Perhaps I Cannot Make My People Good, She Told Herself, But I Should At Least Try To Make Them A Little Less Bad.

And If I'm Guilty Of Having Gratuitous Sex, Then I'm 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.

We'll Need To Make A Litter To Carry Him," Said Osha. "no Use," Said Luwin. "i'm Dying, Woman." "you Can't," Said Rickon Angrily. "no You Can't." Beside Him, Shaggydog Bared His Teeth And Growled. The Maester Smiled. "hush Now, Child, I'm Much Older Than You. I Can . . . Die As I Please.