George R. R. Martin
George R. R. Martin
George Raymond Richard Martin, often referred to as GRRM, is an American novelist and short-story writer in the fantasy, horror, and science fiction genres, a screenwriter, and television producer. He is best known for his international bestselling series of epic fantasy novels, A Song of Ice and Fire, which was later adapted into the HBO dramatic series Game of Thrones...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionAuthor
Date of Birth20 September 1948
CountryUnited States of America
winter world certain
In this world, only winter is certain
rain play forgotten
I do so hope he plays us 'The Rains of Castamere.' It has been an hour. I've forgotten how it goes -- Olenna Tyrell, the HBIC
memories men years
The years leech at a man's memories, even those he has vowed never to forget.
names hell seven
If you die before you say her name, ser, I will hunt you through all seven hells." --Prince Oberyn of Dorne.
years air dust
The air smelled of paper and dust and years.
mind rust
Minds are like swords, I do fear. The old ones go to rust.
liars kissing kiss-me
Has my tale turned you speechless? Come, curse me or kiss me or call me a liar. Something.
queens names knights
And the mystery knight should defeat all challengers and name the wolf maid the queen of love and beauty.
men nipples useless
The man is as useless as nipples on a breastplate.
mistake forbearance
You mistake patience for forbearance.
names giving
Give a thing a name and it will somehow come to be.
Can they love without a word for it?
kings children father
Swords have been my life, not books. But every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. Your father was not the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, he said, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.
summer mother laughter
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.