What's Dead May Never Die.

Perhaps I Will Die Too, She Told Herself, And The Thought Did Not Seem So Terrible To Her. If She Flung Herself From The Window, She Could Put An End To Her Suffering, And In The Years To Come The Singers Would Write Songs Of Her Grief. Her Body Would Lie On The Stones Below, Broken And Innocent, Shaming All Those Who Had Betrayed Her. Sansa Went So Far As To Cross The Bedchamber And Throw Open The Shutters ... But Then Her Courage Left Her, And She Ran Back To Her Bed, Sobbing.

Sleep Is A Little Death, Dreams The Whisperings Of The Other, Who Would Drag Us All Into His Eternal Night.

Why Should Death Make A Man Truthful, Or Even Clever? The Dead Are Likely Dull Fellows, Full Of Tedious Complaints - The Ground's Too Cold, My Gravestone Should Be Larger, Why Does He Get More Worms Than I Do.

Love Is Poison. A Sweet Poison, Yes, But It Will Kill You All The Same.

One Voice May Speak You False, But In Many There Is Always Truth To Be Found.