“Do you want to die old and craven in your bed?- How else? Though not till I'm done reading.”

“And as if he had read her thoughts, the old man murmured, 'What a blessing it is to die in your own bed, under your own roof, with your family surrounding you, full of the knowledge that you have lived as thoroughly as you wanted to.”

“So every day is a battle, and I'm so tired I don't want to live; only it's cowardly to die till you have done something.”

“Jaime," Brienne whispered, so faintly he thought he was dreaming it. "Jaime, what are you doing?""Dying," he whispered back."No," she said, "no, you must live."He wanted to laugh. "Stop telling me what to do, wench. I'll die if it pleases me.""Are you so craven?"The words shocked him. He was Jaime Lannister, a knight of the Kingsguard, he was the Kingslayer. No man had ever called him craven. Other things they called him, yes; oathbreaker, liar, murderer. They said he was cruel, treacherous, reckless. But never craven. "What else can I do, but die?""Live," she said, "live, and fight, and take revenge."Craven, Jaime thought.... Can it be? They took my sword hand. Was that all I was, a sword hand? Gods be good, is it true?The wench had the right of it. He could not die.”

“And it is a great thing to die in your own bed, though it is better still to die in your boots.”

“-"Leslie? What are you doing?"-"Choosing. I'm mine. Not anyone else's."-"I'm still yours, though. That won't ever change, Shadow Girl.”