“What was the point in satin and lace if it didn't make a man struggle to speak?”
“Satin and lace and brown velvet and the faint odor of violets. That was all which was left to him of his love.”
“What's the point anyway — Of suffering, dying? It teaches us to live, boy. A man who does not struggle does not live, he survives.”
“Where's the man that could ease a heart like a satin gown?”
“In the land of Gibberish, the man who makes sense, the man who speaks clearly, clearly speaks nonsense.”
“Ser Jaime?" Even in soiled pink satin and torn lace, Brienne looked more like a man in a gown than a proper woman."I am grateful, but...you were well away. Why come back?"A dozen quips came to mind, each crueler than the one before, but Jaime only shrugged. "I dreamed of you," he said.”