“What could he have done, one man against so many?"He could have tried, Brienne thought.”

“What else could he possibly have done? What choices did he ever have?”

“There were a lot of things he could say. "Son of a bitch!" would have been a good one. Or he could say, "Welcome to civilization!" He could have said, "Laugh this one off!" He might have said, "Fetch!" But he didn’t, because if he had said any of those things then he’d have known that what he had just done was murder.”

“If God meant to interfere in the degeneracy of mankind would he not have done so by now? Wolves cull themselves, man. What other creatures could? And is the race of man not more predacious yet?”

“He thought about himself, and the whole Earth,Of Man the wonderful, and of the Stars,And how the deuce they ever could have birth;And then he thought of Earthquakes, and of Wars,How many miles the Moon might have in girth,Of Air-balloons, and of the many barsTo perfect Knowledge of the boundless Skies;And then he thought of Donna Julia's eyes.”

“What have I done to deserve that look?" He asked in a low voice so that nobody else could hear.”