The Gods Give With One Hand And

Fiction Is Lies; We're Writing About People Who Never Existed And Events That Never Happened When We Write Fiction, Whether Its Science Fiction Or Fantasy Or Western Mystery Stories Or So-called Literary Stories. All Those Things Are Essentially Untrue. But It Has To Have A Truth At The Core Of It.

The Apples Stewed With Prunes Are Excellent, Except For The Prunes, I Won't Eat Prunes Myself. Well, There Was One Time When Hobb Chopped Them Up With Chesnuts And Carrots And Hid Them In A Hen. Never Trust A Cook, My Lord. They'll Prune You When You Least Expect It.

The Snow Drifted Down And Down, All In Ghostly Silence, And Lay Thick And Unbroken On The Ground. It Was A Place Of Whites And Blacks And Greys. White Towers And White Snow And White Statues, Black Shadows And Black Trees, The Dark Grey Sky Above. A Pure World, Sansa Thought. I Do Not Belong Here. Yet She Stepped Out All The Same.

I've Lost A Hand, A Father, A Son, A Sister, And A Lover, And Soon Enough I Will Lose A Brother. And Yet They Keep Telling Me House Lannister Won This War.

That Little Touch Is Not In The Books, But I Wish It Had Been In The Books Because It Was A Great Addition.