And I Tell You Truly, Danaerys, There

Oh, My Sweet Summer Child," Old Nan Said Quietly, "what Do You Know Of Fear? Fear Is For The Winter, My Little Lord, When The Snows Fall A Hundred Feet Deep And The Ice Wind Comes Howling Out Of The North. Fear Is For The Long Night, When The Sun Hides Its Face For Years At A Time, And Little Children Are Born And Live And Die All In Darkness While The Direwolves Grow Gaunt And Hungry, And The White Walkers Move Through The Woods

I Do Know What’s Been Useless To Me Is The Online Fantasy Name Generators. I’ve Tried Those A Few Times, And They Say, ‘just Hit This Button And We’ll Generate 50 Fantasy Names,’ And They All Turn Out To Be ‘grisknuckle’.

For Herself, She Wanted Sleet And Ice, Howling Winds, Thunder To Shake The Very Stones Of The Red Keep. She Wanted A Storm To Match Her Rage.

Don't Write Outlines; I Hate Outlines.

I Have Climbed These Steps So Often I Know Each One By Name.