There Are No Happy Endings.

I Am Surrounded By Flatterers And Fools.

The Letter . . . What Did Your Lords Make Of It, I Wonder?” Stannis Snorted. “celtigar Pronounced It Admirable. If I Showed Him The Contents Of My Privy, He Would Declare That Admirable As Well.

The Gods Made The Earth For All Men T' Share. Only When The Kings Come With Their Crowns And Steel Swords, They Claimed It Was All Theirs. "my Trees," They Said, "you Can't Eat Them Apples. My Stream, You Can't Fish Here. My Wood, You're Not T' Hunt. My Earth, My Water, My Castle, My Daughter, Keep Your Hands Away Or I'll Chop 'em Off, But Maybe If You Kneel T' Me I'll Let You Have A Sniff." You Call Us Thieves, But At Least A Thief Has T' Be Brave And Clever And Quick. A Kneeler Only Has T' Kneel.

Minds Are Like Swords, I Do Fear. The Old Ones Go To Rust.

Needle Was Robb And Bran And Rickon, Her Mother And Her Father, Even Sansa. Needle Was Winterfell's Grey Walls, And The Laughter Of Its People. Needle Was The Summer Snows, Old Nan's Stories, The Heart Tree With Its Red Leaves And Scary Face, The Warm Earthy Smell Of The Glass Gardens, The Sound Of The North Wind Rattling The Shutters Of Her Room. Needle Was Jon Snow's Smile. He Used To Mess My Hair And Call Me "little Sister," She Remembered, And Suddenly There Were Tears In Her Eyes.