“My life was writ in red, in blood and wine.”

“I prefer my history dead. Dead history is writ in ink, the living sort in blood.”

“Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end.”

“...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.”

“The ruby at Melisandre's throat gleamed red. "It is not those foes who curse you to your face that you must fear, but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn your back. You would do well to keep your wolf close beside you. Ice, I see, and daggers in the dark. Blood frozen red and hard, and naked steel. It was very cold.""It is always cold on the Wall.""You think so?""I know so, my lady.""Then you know nothing, Jon Snow," she whispered.”

“Everything's better with some wine in the belly.”

“Wine makes all things possible.”