1. “My own heroes are the dreamers, those men and women who tried to make the world a better place than when they found it, whether in small ways or great ones. Some succeeded, some failed, most had mixed results… but it is the effort that’s heroic, as I see it. Win or lose, I admire those who fight the good fight.” (GRRM)

 

2. “Woman?” She chuckled. “Is that meant to insult me? I would return the slap, if I took you for a man,” (A Storm of Swords).

 

3. “Nothing burns like the cold,” (A Game of Thrones).

 

4. “The flames licked the belly of the night with hot orange tongues,” (A Storm of Swords).

 

5. “Chaos isn’t a pit. Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail and never get to try again. The fall breaks them. And some are given a chance to climb. They refuse, they cling to the realm or the gods or love. Illusions. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is,” (A Storm of Swords).

 

6. “The music of slaughter,” (The Winds of Winter, Excerpt).

 

7.  “People often claim to hunger for truth, but seldom like the taste when it’s served up,” (A Clash of Kings).

 

8. “When you tear out a man’s tongue, you are not proving him a liar, you’re only telling the world that you fear what he might say,” (A Clash of Kings).

 

9. “Words are wind,” (A Feast for Crows).

 

10. “The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real … for a moment at least … that long magic moment before we wake.

Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?

We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.

They can keep their heaven. When I die, I’d sooner go to middle Earth,” (GRRM).

 

🙂 From a brilliant mind

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