The snow fell and the castle rose. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered.
On the last day I took her where the wild roses grow and she lay on the bank, the wind light as a thief. As I kissed her goodbye, I said, ‘All beauty must die’, and lent down and planted a rose between her teeth
wolves are supposed to be brave; aren’t they?
I play dead / It stops the hurting / I play dead / And the hurt stops
I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard’s daughter and Lady Catelyn’s, the blood of Winterfell.