You're funny. You've always been funny...but none of your jokes will ever match the first one, will they? Do you remember, back when you ripped my mother open on your way out of her and she bled to death? ... Mother gone, for the sake of you. There's no bigger joke in the world than that.
The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.
Tell me, if I'd stabbed the Mad King in the belly instead of the back, would you admire me more?
Thousands of years ago there came a night that lasted a generation. Kings froze to death in their castles, same as the shepherds in their huts, and women smothered their babies rather than see them starve, and wept and felt their tears freeze on their cheeks. So is this the sort of story that you like?
I hope we've provided some good stories for you to tell when you're back in King's Landing. Something to think about while you're drinking your wine down there, enjoying the brothels; half the boys you've seen training will die north of the Wall. Might be a wildling's axe that gets them, might be sickness, might just be the cold. They die in pain, and they do it so plump little lords like you can enjoy their summer afternoons in peace and comfort.
I am a Khaleesi of the Dothraki! I am the wife of the great Khal and I carry his son inside me. The next time you raise a hand to me will be the last time you have hands!
You want free? [gestures to the mile-long drop where his cell ends] Go be free.
The First Sword of Braavos does not run. What do we say to the god of death?
See how fierce she grows? That is my son inside her, the stallion that will mount the world, filling her with his fire.
I'll not sit meekly by and wait for the snows. I mean to find out what's happening. The Night's Watch will ride in force, against the Wildlings, the White Walkers and whatever else is out there. And we will find Benjen Stark, alive or dead. I will command them myself, so I'll only ask you once, Lord Snow: are you a brother of the Night's Watch, or a bastard boy who wants to play at war?
Power resides where men believe it resides. It's a trick, a shadow on the wall, and a very small man can cast a very large shadow.
Every night it's the same: I'm walking, running, but I'm not me. I'm running through the Godswood, sniffing the dirt, tasting blood in my mouth when I've made a fresh kill, howling. Old Nan used to tell me stories about magical people who could live inside stags, birds, wolves.
We do not sow. We are Ironborn. We're not subjects, we're not slaves. We do not plow the fields or toil in the mines. We take what is ours. Your time with the wolves has made you weak.
We die today, brothers. We die bleeding from 100 wounds, with arrows in our necks and spears in our guts. But our war-cries will echo through eternity. They will sing about the Battle of Winterfell until the Iron Islands have slipped beneath the waves.
I'm not threatening the king, ser. I'm educating my nephew. Bronn, the next time Ser Meryn speaks, kill him. That was a threat. See the difference?
They call him 'The Young Wolf'. They say he rides into battle on the back of a giant direwolf. They say he can turn into a wolf himself when he wants. They say he can't be killed.
I do not know your son, My Lady, but I could serve you if you would have me. You have courage. Not battle courage perhaps, but, I don't know, a woman's kind of courage.
A girl gives a man his own name?
I will pray for your safe return, my lord... Just as I pray for the king's.
You know what I learned from losing that duel? I learned that I will never win; not that way. That’s their game, their rules.
My lady, there is no word for “thank you” in Dothraki.
I have come to love you from afar. Tales of your courage and wisdom have never been far from my ears. And those tales have taken root deep inside of me.
Love didn’t just happen to us. We built it slowly over the years, stone by stone. For you, for your brothers and sisters, for all of us. It’s not as exciting as secret passion in the woods, but it is stronger. It lasts longer.
Your mother's dead, before long I'll be dead, and you, and your brother, and your sister and all of her children. All of us dead, all of us rotting in the ground. It's the family name that lives on. That's all that lives on. Not your personal glory, not your honor, but family. Do you understand?
I'll tell you what. I'm going to give you a present. After I raise my armies, and kill your traitor brother, I'll give you his head as well.
Tell Lord Tywin winter is coming for him. Twenty thousand northerners marching south to find out if he really does sh*t gold.