“...How would you like to die, Tyrion son of Tywin?""In my own bed, with a belly full of wine and a maiden's mouth around my cock, at the age of eighty," he replied.”

“Shaga: How would you like to die, little man?Tyrion: In my bed, at the age of eighty with a belly full of wine and a woman's mouth around my cock.”

“You smile like Gerion and fight like Tyg, and theree;s some Kevan is you, else you would not wear that cloak... but Tyrion is Tywin's son, not you. I said so once to your father's face, and he would not speak to me for half a year. Men are such thundering great fools. Even the sort who come along once in a thousand years.”

“Oh? And what was I to say? I beg your pardon, Lord Wriothesly, but your wife seems to have acquired a distinct liking for my husband's cock. Would you mind kindly retrieving her to your own bed?”

“A sob racks my body again, and he wraps his arms around me so tightly I find it difficult to breathe, but it doesn't matter. My dignified weeping gives way to full-on ugliness, my mouth open and my face contorted and sounds like a dying animal coming from my throat. If this continues I will break apart, and maybe that would be better, maybe it would be better to shatter and bear nothing.”

“You promised him vengeance as well.''I promised him justice.''Call it what you will. It still comes down to blood." - Tywin & Tyrion”