You Lie. Worse, You Lie Poorly.

I Have Some Other Novels I Want To Write. I Have A Lot Of Short Stories - I Love The Short Story.

Oh, My Sweet Summer Child," Old Nan Said Quietly, "what Do You Know Of Fear? Fear Is For The Winter, My Little Lord, When The Snows Fall A Hundred Feet Deep And The Ice Wind Comes Howling Out Of The North. Fear Is For The Long Night, When The Sun Hides Its Face For Years At A Time, And Little Children Are Born And Live And Die All In Darkness While The Direwolves Grow Gaunt And Hungry, And The White Walkers Move Through The Woods

Words Are Like Arrows, Arianne. Once Loosed, You Cannot Call Them Back. - Areo Hotah

Power Resides Only Where Men Believe It Resides. [...] A Shadow On The Wall, Yet Shadows Can Kill. And Ofttimes A Very Small Man Can Cast A Very Large Shadow.

Sometimes I Think Some Of My Fellow Novelists Who Have Not Worked In Television And Film Are Very Naive About This Process. They Get An Offer And There's The Dump Truck Full Of Money And They Sign It, They Cash The Check And Then They're Not Involved In The Series. They May Get Invited To The Premiere And They Come Out Of The Premiere Looking Like All Of Their Children Had Just Been Gassed, With A Stunned Look On Their Face Because Everything Has Been Changed.