soon comes the cold, and the night that never ends; “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.“
You can have Manhattan, I’ll settle for the beach. And sunsets facing westward, With sand beneath my feet. I’ll wish this away, Dismissing the days, When I was one half of two, You can have Manhattan, Cause I can’t have you.