If Ice Can Burn, Then Love And

You Mistake Patience For Forbearance.

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.

If Half An Onion Is Black With Rot, It Is A Rotten Onion. A Man Is Good Or He Is Evil. (melisandre Of Asshai)

The Vast Majority Of Writers Out There, They Finish Their Books And No One Cares Whether Their Book Is Late Or Ever Comes Out At All. And Then It Comes Out And Two Reviews Are Published And It Sells 12 Copies.

We Were Talking About The Prince,' Sansa Said, Her Voice Soft As A Kiss. Arya Knew Which Prince She Meant: Joffrey, Of Course. The Tall, Handsome One. Sansa Got To Sit With Him At The Feast. Arya Had To Sit With The Little Fat One. Naturally.