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“Evidently we look so much alike that your desire to make an incurable dent in my hat must be excused.”
― The Two Towers
― The Two Towers
“It's just a stupid 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.”
― A Feast for Crows
... 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.”
― A Feast for Crows
“Fly you fools”
― The Fellowship of the Ring
― The Fellowship of the Ring
“So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
― The Fellowship of the Ring
― The Fellowship of the Ring
“When you smell our candles burning, what does it make you think of, my child?"
Winterfell, she might have said. I smell snow and smoke and pine needles. I smell the stables. I smell Hodor laughing, and Jon and Robb battling in the yard, and Sansa singing about some stupid lady fair. I smell the crypts where the stone kings sit. I smell hot bread baking. I smell the godswood. I smell my wolf. I smell her fur, almost as if she were still beside me.
"I don't smell anything," she said.”
― A Feast for Crows
Winterfell, she might have said. I smell snow and smoke and pine needles. I smell the stables. I smell Hodor laughing, and Jon and Robb battling in the yard, and Sansa singing about some stupid lady fair. I smell the crypts where the stone kings sit. I smell hot bread baking. I smell the godswood. I smell my wolf. I smell her fur, almost as if she were still beside me.
"I don't smell anything," she said.”
― A Feast for Crows
David’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at David’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
726 books
|
77 friends
594 books
|
51 friends
944 books
|
81 friends
260 books
|
29 friends
3,746 books
|
273 friends
461 books
|
37 friends
148 books
|
48 friends
11 books
|
28 friends
More friends…
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