O Medo Corta Mais Profundamente Do Que

Kings Are Falling Like Leaves This Autumn.

My Dreams Are The Usual Incoherent Nonsense. Like Most Writers, At Some Point In My Career I Thought, Well, I Have These Great Dreams But I Always Forget Them In The Morning So I’ll Leave A Pad On My Bedside Table So I Can Write It Down, And Then You Have Some Incredible Dream And You Write It Down And The Next Morning You Wake Up And You’ve Written ‘purple Socks’.

From Where I Sit, Battles Are Hard. I’ve Written My Share. Sometimes I Employ The Private’s Viewpoint, Very Up Close And Personal, Dropping The Reader Right Into The Middle Of The Carnage. That’s Vivid And Visceral, But Of Necessity Chaotic, And It Is Easy To Lose All Sense Of The Battle As A Whole. Sometimes I Go With The General’s Point Of View Instead, Looking Down From On High, Seeing Lines And Flanks And Reserves. That Gives A Great Sense Of The Tactics, Of How The Battle Is Won Or Lost, But Can Easily Slide Into Abstraction.

Woman? Is That Meant To Insult Me? I Would Return The Slap, If I Took You For A Man. - Daenerys Targaryen

I Would Choose Freedom Over Comfort Every Time.