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There were three sorts of Dornishmen, the first King Daeron had observed. There were the salty Dornishmen who lived along the coasts, the sandy Dornishmen of the deserts and long river valleys, and the stony Dornishmen who made their fastnesses in the passes and heights of the Red Mountains. The salty Domishmen had the most Rhoynish blood, the stony Dornishmen the least.

All three sorts seemed well represented in Doran’s retinue. The salty Dornishmen were lithe and dark, with smooth olive skin and long black hair streaming in the wind. The sandy Dornishmen were even darker, their faces burned brown by the hot Dornish sun. They wound long bright scarfs around their helms to ward off sunstroke. The stony Dornishmen were biggest and fairest, sons of the Andals and the First Men, brownhaired or blond, with faces that freckled or burned in the sun instead of browning.

The lords wore silk and satin robes with jeweled belts and flowing sleeves. Their armor was heavily enameled and inlaid with burnished copper, shining silver, and soft red gold. They came astride red horses and golden ones and a few as pale as snow, all slim and swift, with long necks and narrow beautiful heads. The fabled sand steeds of Dorne were smaller than proper warhorses and could not bear such weight of armor, but it was said that they could run for a day and night and another day, and never tire.
Monday, 14th of April

And the woman said, The serpent
beguiled me, and I did eat.
— Genesis 3:13

Beguiled, my ass. I said no such thing.
You say I lost the gift of Paradise.
I couldn’t lose what I never had.

You say the serpent tempted me to eat.
You omit that he entered the Garden
on two legs and walked like a man.

And here’s what your story always ignores:
I had pure gold, rare perfume, precious stones,
but Adam hadn’t touched me all those years.

Perfection in the Garden didn’t mean that way.
Not having it and not wanting it
was God’s idea of perfection, not mine.

So when that serpent strolled up to the tree,
all upright and fine, he threw off the balance,
and I began to pray, Oh, let him be mine.

When he held out the apple, so round and lush,
when he stroked it to a keen red glow,
I didn’t fall to temptation — I rose to it.

I ate that apple because I was hungry.
I wanted what lay outside of Paradise,
a world without the burden of perfection.

Now you call all sinful women my sisters.
I say, let them claim their own damn sins.
The apple may not be perfect, but it’s mine.

—— Diane Lockward, Eve Argues Against Perfection (via grammatolatry)
Monday, 7th of April
#perfection   #quotes   #poetry  
Monday, 7th of April
Monday, 7th of April

valarmorqhulis:

Inspired by [x].

Monday, 7th of April
Monday, 7th of April
Monday, 7th of April

odins-one-eyed-fuck:

emmaswanned:

fair-wolf-maiden:

notkatniss:

IVE BEEN LAUGHING AT THIS THEY JUST STARE AT EACH OTHER HOLDING PUPPIES 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klmvEfIneiY

this is BRILLIANT

Sunday, 6th of April
❝ Lay with me Cersei, I incest ❞
—— Jaime Lannister, probably, at some point (via stupid-fucking-rope)
Sunday, 6th of April

missachickapea:

Yay, Jaime’s hand!

image

Sunday, 6th of April