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Foruma hoş geldin 👋, Ziyaretçi
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“The snow will cover me like a thick white blanket. It will be warm under the snow, and if they speak of me they'll have to say I died a man of the NIght Watch. I did. I did. I did my duty.
No one can say I foreswore myself I'm fat and I'm weak and I'm craven, but I did my duty.”
“I want her, he realized. I want Winterfell, yes, but I want her as well, child or woman or whatever she is. I want to comfort her. I want to hear her laugh. I want her to come to me willingly, bring me her joys and her sorrows and her lust.”
“Before he had lost his sight, the maester had loved books as much as Samwell Tarly did. He understood the way that you could sometimes fall right into them, as if each page was a hole into another world.”
“Sobbing, Sam took another step. This is the last one, the very last, I can't go on, I can't. But his feet moved again. One and then the other. They took a step, and then another, and he thought, They're not my feet, they're someone else's,
someone else is walking, it can't be me.”
“Poison is a coward's weapon'' the king complained. Ned had heard enough.
''You send hired knives to kill a fourteen-year-old girl and still quibble about honor?”
“If I fight, they must do the same, or they are less than dwarfs. “You won’t hear me shout out Joffrey’s name,” he told them. “You won’t hear me yell for Casterly Rock either.
This is your city Stannis means to sack, and that’s your gate he’s bringing down. So come with me and kill the son of a bitch!”
“She wanted to see if it would be as easy with a woman as it had always been with Robert. Ten thousand of your children perished in my palm, Your Grace, she thought, slipping a third finger into Myr. Whilst you snored, I would lick your sons off my face and fingers one by one, all those pale sticky princes.
You claimed your rights, my lord, but in the darkness I would eat your heirs.”
“When the spirit stepped out of the open tomb, pale white and moaning for blood, Sansa ran shrieking for the stairs, and Bran wrapped himself around Robb’s leg, sobbing. Arya stood her ground and gave the spirit a punch. It was only Jon, covered with flour. “You stupid,” she told him, “you scared the baby,” but Jon and Robb just laughed and laughed,
and pretty soon Bran and Arya were laughing too.”
“And to Rhaego son of Drogo, the stallion who will mount the world, to him I also pledge a gift. To him I will give this iron chair his mother's father sat in. I will give him Seven Kingdoms. I, Drogo, khal, will do this thing.'' His voice rose, and he lifted his fist in the sky. ''I will take my khalasar west to where the world ends, and ride the wooden horses across the black salt water as no khal has done before. I will kill the men in the iron suits and tear down their stone houses. I will rape their women, take their children as slaves, and bring their broken gods back to Vaes Dothrak to bow down beneath the Mother of Mountains. This I vow, I, Drogo son of Bharbo.
This I swear before the Mother of Mountains, as the stars look down in witness.”
"Noooo," Cersei wailed, 'Father help him, someone help him, my son, my son...'
Tyrion found himself thinking of Robb Stark. My own wedding is looking much better in hindsight.
“Why should I live? he thought as tears blurred his vision. Gods be good, why? My sons are dead, Dale and Allard, Maric and Matthos, perhaps Devan as well. How can a father outlive so many stroung young sons? How would I go on? I am a hollow shell, the crab's died, there's nothing left inside.
Don't they know that?”
The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,
and her kisses were warmer than spring.
But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,
and its kiss was a terrible thing.
The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed,
in a voice that was sweet as a peach,
But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,
and a bite sharp and cold as a leech.
As he lay on the ground with the darkness around,
and the taste of his blood on his tongue,
His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,
and he smiled and he laughed and he sung,
"Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,
the Dornishman's taken my life,
But what does it matter, for all men must die,
and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!"
“Jon, did you ever wonder why the men of the Night's Watch take no wives and father no children?'' Maester Aemon asked.
Jon shrugged. ''No.'' He scattered more meat. The fingers of his left hand were slimy with blood and his right throbbed from the weight of the bucket. ''So they will not love'' the old man answered ''for love is the bane of honor, the death of duty”