Sitemizi ana ekranınıza bir web uygulaması olarak nasıl yükleyeceğinizi görmek için aşağıdaki videoyu izleyin.
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Foruma hoş geldin 👋, Ziyaretçi
Forum içeriğine ve tüm hizmetlerimize erişim sağlamak için lütfen foruma kayıt olun veya giriş yapın. Üyelik tamamen ücretsizdir ve sadece birkaç dakikanızı alır.
Çok eski bir web tarayıcısı kullanıyorsunuz. Bu veya diğer siteleri görüntülemekte sorunlar yaşayabilirsiniz.. Tarayıcınızı güncellemeli veya alternatif bir tarayıcı kullanmalısınız.
“The gods made the earth for all men t’ share.
Only when the kings come with their crowns and steel swords, they claimed it was all theirs.
My trees, they said, you can’t eat them apples.
My stream, you can’t fish here. My wood, you’re not t’ hunt. My earth, my water, my castle, my daughter,
keep your hands away or I’ll chop ’em off,
but maybe if you kneel t’ me I’ll let you have a sniff.
You call us thieves, but at least a thief has t’ be brave and clever and quick.
A kneeler only has t’ kneel.”
"Even after all these years, Ser Barristan could still recall Ashara’s smile, the sound of her laughter. He had only to close his eyes to see her, with her long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders and those haunting purple eyes. Daenerys has the same eyes. Sometimes when the queen looked at him, he felt as if he were looking at Ashara’s daughter ...
But Ashara’s daughter had been stillborn, and his fair lady had thrown herself from a tower soon after, mad with grief for the child she had lost, and perhaps for the man who had dishonored her at Harrenhal as well."
Coldhands is dressed in the mottled blacks and greys of the Night's Watch with a scarf concealing his face. His hands are black and as cold as ice, and he rides a great elk. A flock of ravens flies under his command. He does not breathe.
Summer does not like the way Coldhands smells - "dead meat, dry blood, a faint whiff of rot. And cold. Cold all over". Though Coldhands is often described as dead, but still alive, his eyes are described as black, in contrast of the light blue of wights and Others. Although he is thin and gaunt, his voice rattles.
"The wolves have grown terrible of late, there are places where a man alone would do well to find a tree to sleep in. In all my years the biggest pack I ever saw had fewer than a dozen wolves in it, but the great pack that prowls along the Trident now numbers in the hundreds [...] They say the pack is led by a monstrous she-wolf., a stalking shadow grim and grey and huge. They will tell you she has been known to bring aurochs down all by herself, that no trap nor snare can hold her, that she fears neither steel or fire, slays any wolf that tries to mount her and devours no other flesh but man."
"Young I was, and vain, but the sea washed my follies and my vanities away. That man drowned, nephew. His lungs filled with seawater, and the fish ate the scales off his eyes. When I rose again, I saw clearly."
"It is swords you need, not gentle hearts. How could you do this, Robb? How could you be so heedless, so stupid? How could you be so... so very... young."
Tyrion: When I was your age, I used to dream of having a dragon of my own. Jon Snow: You did? Tyrion: Oh, yes. Even a stunted, twisted, ugly little boy can look down over the world when he's seated on a dragon's back. I used to start fires in the bowels of Casterly Rock and stare at the flames for hours, pretending they were dragonfire. Sometimes I'd imagine my father burning. At other times, my sister. Don't look at me that way, bastard. I know your secret. You've dreamt the same kind of dreams.
