Soon Comes The Cold, And The Night

Ned Was Clad In A White Linen Doublet With The Direwolf Of Stark On The Breast; His Black Wool Cloak Was Fastened At The Collar By His Silver Hand Of Office. Black And White And Grey, All The Shades Of Truth.

You Kill Men For The Wrongs They Have Done, Not The Wrongs That They May Do Someday.

Soon Comes The Cold, And The Night That Never Ends.

When I Am Writing Best, I Really Am Lost In My World. I Lose Track Of The Outside World. I Have A Difficult Time Balancing Between My Real World And The Artificial World.

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.