Sansa Stark

— I'll never see it again.
— A lot can happen between now and never.

— She may not be the grandest ship in the world or the fastest, but she's mine. I've always wanted a ship. Now I want a dozen. Strange, isn't it?
— What is?
— It doesn't matter what we want, once we get it, then we want something else.

When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.

— Sansa, I beg you. I loved your mother since the time I was a boy.
— And yet you betrayed her.
— I loved you. More than anyone.
— And yet you betrayed me.

— No such that the game works. You should not simply spit out the right answer. You must invent a story about where the ship goes and why.
— Why invent if I know the truth?
— Because the truth is always terrible or tedious.

— You're angry. Sometimes anger makes people do unfortunate things.
— Sometimes fear makes them do unfortunate things. I'll go with anger.

— Sansa. Hello, Sansa. Is this where I'll be staying now? No. Our time together is about to come to an end. That's all right. You can't kill me. I'm part of you now.
— Your words will disappear. Your house will disappear. Your name will disappear. All memory of you will disappear.

— My hounds will never harm me.
— You haven't fed them in seven days. You said it yourself.
— They're loyal beasts.
— They were. Now they're starving.

— When we were young, Jaime and I, we looked so much alike even our father couldn't tell us apart. I could never understand why they treated us differently. Jaime was taught to fight with sword and lance and mace, and I was taught to smile and sing and please. He was heir to Casterly Rock, and I was sold to some stranger like a horse to be ridden whenever he desired.
— You were Robert's queen.
— And you will be Joffrey's. Enjoy.

— What are you doing?
— Praying.
— You're perfect, aren't you? Praying. What are you praying for?
— For the gods to have mercy on us all.
— Oh. On all of us?
— Yes, Your Grace.
— Even me?
— Of course, Your Grace.
— Even Joffrey?
— Joffrey is my...
— Oh, shut up, you little fool. Praying to the gods to have mercy on us all. The gods have no mercy. That's why they're gods. My father told me that when he caught me praying. My mother had just died, you see. I didn't really understand the concept of death, the finality of it. I thought that if I prayed very, very hard, the gods would return my mother to me.

It's the most heroic thing we can do now... look the truth in the face.

Don't you wish we could go back to the day we left? I want to scream at myself, "Don't go, you idiot."

— Every time I'm faced with a decision, I close my eyes and see the same picture. Whenever I consider an action, I ask myself will this action help to make this picture a reality? Pull it out of my mind and into the world? And I only act if the answer is yes. A picture of me on the Iron Throne and you by my side.
— It's a pretty picture.

I don't pray any more. It's the only place I can go where people don't talk to me.