A Clash of Kings

I am an old done man, grown giddy as a child again.

“I am sorry for your loss as well, Joffrey,” the dwarf said.
“What loss?”
“Your royal father? A large fierce man with a black beard; you'll recall him if you try. He was king before you.”

Was there ever a war where only one side bled?

Varys smiled. “Here, then. Power resides where men believe it resides. No more and no less.”
“So power is a mummer's trick?”
“A shadow on the wall,” Varys murmured, “yet shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow.”

“There are ghosts everywhere,” Ser Jorah said softly. “We carry them with us wherever we go.”

“Because it will not last,” Catelyn answered, sadly. “Because they are the knights of summer, and winter is coming.”

Perhaps magic was once a mighty force in the world, but no longer. What little remains is no more than the wisp of smoke that lingers in the air after a great fire has burned out, and even that is fading.

It is not what we do, so much as why we do it.

“Sleep is good,” he said. “And books are better.”

“A grey man,” she said. “Neither white nor black, but partaking of both.”

There are no shadows in the dark. Shadows are the servants of light, the children of fire. The brightest flame casts the darkest shadows.

I am a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings. There is an empty place within me where my heart was once.

She walked fast, to keep ahead of her fear.

Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.