Septon Quotes & Sayings

Out of the blackness of the ward, a half-open file drawer of pain each bed a folder, come cries, struck cries, as from cold metal. — Thomas Pynchon

When I was in college, there were a couple years there where I was just not sure what to do, and it was actually my mom who suggested I take some journalism classes. — Savannah Guthrie

A modest fellow, this one," the septon said to Ser Lucas. "Were I as large as him, I'd call myself Ser Sefton the Immense. Ser Sefton the Tower. Ser Sefton with the Clouds About His Ears. — George R R Martin

He'll be down with the books. My old septon used to say books are dead men talking. Dead men should keep quiet is what I say. No one wants to hear a dead man's yabber. — George R R Martin

I wonder what the High Septon would have to say about the sanctity of oaths sworn while dead drunk, chained to a wall, with a sword pressed to your chest? — George R R Martin

Septon Cellador spoke up. "This boy Satin. It's said you mean to make him your steward and squire, in Tollett's place. My lord, the boy's a whore ... a ... dare I say ... a painted catamite from the brothels of Oldtown." And — George R R Martin

Lady Brienne is a warrior maid," confided Septon Meribald, "hunting for the Hound." "Aye?" Narbert seemed taken aback. "To what end?" Brienne touched Oathkeeper's hilt. "His," she said. — George R R Martin

Septon Barth's claim that the Valyrians came to Westeros because their priests prophesied that the Doom of Man would come out of the land beyond the narrow sea can safely be dismissed as nonsense, as can many of Barth's queerer beliefs and suppositions. — George R R Martin

An old septon once claimed I was living proof of the goodness of the gods. ( ... ) Why, if the gods were cruel, they would have made me my mother's firstborn, and Doran her third. I am a bloodthirsty man, you see. And it is me you must contend with now, not my patient, prudent, and gouty brother.
Oberyn Martell — George R R Martin

Let your inner DORK shine through. — Rachel Renee Russell

My old septon used to say that books are dead men talking. — George R R Martin

key. I need to move up into Duke's job. Then I'll be top boy on Beck's side. Then I'll — Lee Child

The High Septon once told me that as we sin, so do we suffer. — George R R Martin

Love stories are written in millimeters and milliseconds with a fast, dull pencil whose marks you can barely see, they are written in miles and eons with a chisel on the side of a mountiantop — Gabrielle Zevin

Remind me to tell the High Septon," said Tyrion. "If I could pray with my cock, I'd be much more religious." He — George R R Martin

Some say knowledge is power. Some tell us that all power comes from the gods. Others say it derives from law. Yet that day on the steps of Baelor's Sept, our godly High Septon and the lawful Queen Regent and your ever-so-knowledgeable servant were as powerless as any cobbler or cooper in the crowd. Who truly killed Eddard Stark, do you think? Joffrey, who gave the command? Ser Ilyn Payne, who swung the sword? Or ... another?"
Tyrion cocked his head sideways. "Did you mean to answer your damned riddle, or only to make my head ache worse?"
Varys smiled. "Here, then. Power resides where men believe it resides. No more and no less."
"So power is a mummer's trick?"
"A shadow on the wall," Varys murmured, "yet shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow."
Tyrion smiled. "Lord Varyls, I am growing strangely fond of you. I may kill you yet, but I think I'd feel sad about it. — George R R Martin

Joffrey received loving kisses from the bride's father and his two new brothers, Loras and Garlan. No one seemed in any great rush to kiss Tyrion. When the king and queen had taken their seats, the High Septon rose to lead a prayer. — George R R Martin

Varys gave a long weary sigh, the sigh of a man who carried all the sadness of the world in a sack upon his shoulders. "The High Septon once told me that as we sin, so do we suffer. If that's true, Lord Eddard, tell me ... why is it always the innocents who suffer most, when you high lords play your game of thrones? Ponder it, if you would, while you wait upon the queen. And spare a thought for this as well: The next visitor who calls on you could bring you bread and cheese and the milk of the poppy for your pain ... or he could bring you Sansa's head. "The choice, my dear lord Hand, is entirely yours. — George R R Martin