Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow’s smile. He used to mess my hair and call me “little sister,” she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.
(Source: laurmarling)
king: an easy word to say, and easy word to like.
A moment for Minerva's sarcasm:
Minerva Mcgonagall: Well, usually when a person shakes their head, they mean 'no.' So unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign language as yet unknown to humans
Minerva Mcgonagall: I wonder, how you can expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking.
Minerva Mcgonagall: I should have made my meaning plainer. He has achieved high marks in all Defense Against the Dark Arts tests set by a competent teacher.
Minerva Mcgonagall: Are you quite sure you wouldn't like a cough drop, Dolores?
