Quotes About Transition

The world...is full of resurrections... Every night that folds us up in darkness is a death; and those of you that have been out early, and have seen the first of the dawn, will know it - the day rises out of the night like a being that has burst its tomb and escaped into life.

For the people of that flowAre new, the oldNew to age as the youngTo youth

You have dizzying change where there's no progress.

My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel.

When the sun has set, no candle can replace it.

Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.

Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born.

Because it will not last," Catelyn answered, sadly. "Because they are the knights of summer, and winter is coming.

A man could not always be where he belonged, though.

Kings are falling like leaves this autumn.

I thought my song was beginning that day, but it was almost done.

None of us is ever ready

Only the soldier pines and sentinels still showed green; the broadleaf trees had donned mantles of russet and gold, or else uncloaked themselves to scratch against the sky with branches brown and bare.

It is as if I were a stranger here. Nothing has changed, and yet everything has changed - Theon Greyjoy

Here and now, with winter soon upon us, that is a different matter. It is time to begin growing up.

Who are you? We we're king's men when we began, the man told her, but king's men must have a king, and we have none. We were brothers too, but now our brotherhood is broken. I do not know who we are, if truth be told, nor where we might be going. I only know the road is dark. The fires have not shown me what lies at its end.

To go north, you must go south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward, you must go back. To touch the light, you must pass beneath the shadow.

Io ho finito con i baci" - Jon Snow

He will not be three forever. And winter is coming.

Kill the boy and let the man be born.

I arrived here a King's Hand, riding through the gates at the head of my own sworn men, Tyrion reflected, and I leave like a rat scuttling through the dark, holding hands with a spider.

A man does not fly like a bird, but one foot moves and then another and one day a man is there, and a king dies.

What was it Catelyn Stark had called them, that night at Bitterbridge? The knights of summer. And now it was autumn and they were falling like leaves.…

One war ends, another begins.