A Long Summer Always Meant

I Must Show No Fear, No Weakness, No Doubt.

Words Are Wind, Brienne Told Herself. They Cannot Hurt You. Let Them Wash Over You.

I Wonder What The High Septon Would Have To Say About The Sanctity Of Oaths Sworn While Dead Drunk, Chained To A Wall, With A Sword Pressed To Your Chest?

What Is Honor Compared To A Woman's Love? What Is Duty Against The Feel Of A Newborn Son In Your Arms . . . Or The Memory Of A Brother's Smile? Wind And Words. Wind And Words. We Are Only Human, And The Gods Have Fashioned Us For Love. That Is Our Great Glory, And Our Great Tragedy.

Love Is The Bane Of Honor, The Death Of Duty.