“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.”George R.R. Martin (via cmbatman)
“Your brother Robb has been crowned King in the North. You and Aemon have that in common. A king for a brother.”
“And this too,” said Jon. “A vow.”
“Give me a man for every vow I’ve seen broken and the Wall will never lack for defenders.”
“I’ve always known that Robb would be Lord of Winterfell.”
“A lord’s one thing, a king’s another. They will garb your brother Robb in silks, satins, and velvets of a hundred different colors, while you live and die in black ringmail. He will wed some beautiful princess and father sons on her. You’ll have no wife, nor will you ever hold a child of your own blood in your arms. Robb will rule, you will serve. Men will call you a crow. Him they’ll call Your Grace. Singers will praise every little thing he does, while your greatest deeds all go unsung. Tell me that none of this troubles you, Jon… and I’ll name you a liar, and know I have the truth of it.”
Jon drew himself up, taut as a bowstring. “And if it did trouble me, what might I do, bastard as I am?”
“What will you do?” Mormont asked. “Bastard as you are?”
“Be troubled,” said Jon, “and keep my vows.”
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There are ghosts in Winterfell, he thought, and I am one of them.
“He will win his battle. He wins all his battles. …Besides, Ned taught him well.”
The Pointy End - All these swords, they should be going north, boy, north, not south. The cold winds are rising.
When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die.