The glass candle is meant to represent truth and learning, rare and beautiful and fragile things. It is made in the shape of a candle to remind us that a maester must cast light wherever he serves, and it is sharp to remind us that knowledge can be dangerous. Wise men may grow arrogant in their wisdom, but a maester must always remain humble. The glass candle reminds us of that as well. Even after he has said his vow and donned his chain and gone forth to serve, a maester will think back on the darkness of his vigil and remember how nothing that he did could make the candle burn . . . for even with knowledge, some things are not possible.
A Hand without a hand? A bad jape, sister.
"Rule? I said naught of ruling. I shall rule until my son comes of age."
"I don't know who I pity more," her brother said. "Tommen, or the Seven Kingdoms."
You cannot eat love, nor buy a horse with it, nor worm your halls on a cold night.
"Tommen has his mother."
"Aye," he added softly, after a pause, "and his father too, I think."
“Egg, I dreamed that I was old.”
The worst isn't done. The worst is just beginning, and there are no happy endings.
The youngest man ever to serve in the Kingsguard, until me. He was given his cloak on a battlefield and died within an hour of donning it."
"He can't have been very good."
"Good enough. He died, but his king lived.
The dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger!
Ch.21 THE QUEENMAKER
"I was so careful. How could he know?"
"Someone told." Hotah shrugged. "Someone always tells."
"It's just a sword," she said, aloud this time . . .
. . . but it wasn't.
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.
"Men shall name you Goldenhand from this day forth, my lord,"
He was wrong. I shall be the Kingslayer till I die.
"You killed the king," he said, "then you fucked the queen."
Tyrion is Tywin's son, not you.
Jaime resolved to be the first man on the battlements.
And with this golden hand of mine, most like the first to fall.
"Lady? I'm no lady. I'm the queen."
"My sister will be surprised to hear that."
"Lord Ryman crowned me his very self." She gave a shake of her ample hips. "I'm the queen o' whores."
No, Jaime thought, my sweet sister holds that title too.
"Only a fool makes threats he's not prepared to carry out. If I were to threaten to hit you unless you shut your mouth, and you presumed to speak, what do you think I'd do?"
"Ser, you do not unders-"
Jaime hit him.
A Lannister pays his debts
"She wants her son alive, or the men who killed him dead