Quotes About Winterfell

Winterfell is atop of this huge mountain in Northern Ireland, and you can see all these weather fronts coming in. Basically, the sky circles the mountain. It's the most beautiful place.

We're big 'Game of Thrones' fans, so we call our house King's Landing. I have a studio apartment above our garage that we call Winterfell. I go to Winterfell to write.

Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover's kisses, and melted on her cheeks. At the center of the garden, beside the statue of the weeping woman that lay broken and half-buried on the ground, she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams.

The stone is strong. Bran told himself, the roots of the trees go deep, and under the ground the Kings of Winter sit their thrones. So long as those remained, Winterfell remained. It was not dead, just broken. Like me, he thought. I'm not dead either.

When you smell our candles burning, what does it make you think of, my child?" Winterfell, she might have said. I smell snow and smoke and pine needles. I smell the stables. I smell Hodor laughing, and Jon and Robb battling in the yard, and Sansa singing about some stupid lady fair. I smell the crypts where the stone kings sit. I smell hot bread baking. I smell the godswood. I smell my wolf. I smell her fur, almost as if she were still beside me. "I don't smell anything," she said.

The northern girl. Winterfell's daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leathery wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window.

All the color had been leached from Winterfell until only grey and white remained. The Stark colors. Theon did not know whether he ought to find that ominous or reassuring. Even the sky was grey. The eyes of the bride were brown. Big and brown and full of fear.

She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. 'From Winterfell,' she thought. 'I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

Even now, he was a Stark of Winterfell, and his grief and his rage froze hard inside him.

And Winterfell … grey granite, oak and iron, crows wheeling around the towers, steam rising off the hot pools in the godswood, the stone kings sitting on their thrones … how could Winterfell be gone?

Sansa cried herself to sleep, Arya brooded silently all day long, and Eddard Stark dreamed of a frozen hell reserved for the Starks of Winterfell.

It was different when there was a Stark in Winterfell. But the old wolf's dead and young one's gone south to play the game of thrones, and all that's left us is the ghosts.

I used to think that it got cold up in the Dornish Marches. What did I know?" Nothing, thought Jon Snow, the same as me.

Aguja era Robb, Bran, Rickon, su madre y su padre, hasta Sansa. Aguja era los muros grises de Invernalia y las risas de sus habitantes. Aguja era las nieves del verano, los cuentos de la Vieja Tata, el árbol corazón con sus hojas rojas y su rostro aterrador, el cálido olor a tierra de los jardines de cristal, el sonido del viento del norte contra los postigos de su habitación. Aguja era la sonrisa de Jon Nieve»

Lonely and lovely and lethal, Jon Snow reflected, and I might have had her. Her, and Winterfell, and my lord father's name. Instead he had chosen a black cloak and a wall of ice. Instead he had chosen honor. A bastard's sort of honor.

When he thought of his daughters, he would have wept gladly, but the tears would not come. Even now, he was a Stark of Winterfell, and his grief and his rage froze hard inside him.

Over their heads flapped the banner of the Starks of Winterfell: a grey direwolf racing across an ice-white field. Bran

Snow, the boy is called," Pycelle said unhelpfully. "I glimpsed him once at Winterfell," the queen said, "though the Starks did their best to hide him. He looks very like his father." Her husband's by-blows had his look as well, though at least Robert had the grace to keep them out of sight.

Vermax left a clutch of eggs somewhere in the depths of Winterfell's crypts, where the waters of the hot springs run close to the walls, while his rider treated with Cregan Stark at the start of the Dance of the Dragons. As Archmaester Gyldayn notes in his fragmentary history, there is no record that Vermax ever laid so much as a single egg, suggesting the dragon was

Starks of Winterfell: a grey direwolf racing across an ice-white field.