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Must I say it, ser? You call me love, yet you refuse me, when I have most desperate need of you. Is it so wrong of me to want a knight to keep me saf… - George R. R. Martin
" "Must I say it, ser? You call me love, yet you refuse me, when I have most desperate need of you. Is it so wrong of me to want a knight to keep me safe? - Arianne
English
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About George R. R. Martin
George Raymond Richard Martin (born George Raymond Martin September 20, 1948) is an American novelist and short story writer in the fantasy, horror, and science fiction genres, a screenwriter, and television producer. He is best known for A Song of Ice and Fire, his international bestselling series of epic fantasy novels that HBO adapted for its dramatic series Game of Thrones.
Biography information from Wikiquote
Also Known As
Birth Name:
George Raymond Martin
Native Name:
George Raymond Richard Martin
Alternative Names:
GRRM
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George R.R. Martin
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George Martin
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George R. Martin
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Additional quotes by George R. R. Martin
"How can you still count yourself a knight, when you have forsaken every vow you ever swore?"
Jaime reached for the flagon to refill his cup. "So many vows...they make you swear and swear. Defend the king. Obey the king. Keep his secrets. Do his bidding. Your life for his. But obey your father. Love your sister. Protect the innocent. Defend the weak. Respect the gods. Obey the laws. It's too much. No matter what you do, you're forsaking one vow or the other."
Foes and false friends are all around me, Lord Davos. They infest my city like roaches, and at night I feel them crawling over me.” The fat man’s fingers coiled into a fist, and all his chins trembled. “My son Wendel came to the Twins a guest. He ate Lord Walder’s bread and salt, and hung his sword upon the wall to feast with his friends. And they murdered him. Murdered, I say, and may the Freys choke upon their fables. I drink with Jared, jape with Symond, promise Rhaegar the hand of my own beloved granddaughter…but never think that means I have forgotten. The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer’s farce is almost done. My son is home.
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