Shagga: "How would you like to die, Tyrion, son of Tywin?"
Tyrion Lannister: "In my own bed, at the age of 80, with a belly full of wine and a girl's mouth around my cock."

Catelyn Stark: "If you lose, your father dies, your sisters die, we die."
Robb Stark: "Well, that makes it simple then."
Catelyn Stark: "I suppose it does."

Theon Greyjoy: "Are you afraid?"
Robb Stark: [his Hands are shaking] "I must be."
Theon Greyjoy: "Good."
Robb Stark: "Why is that good?"
Theon Greyjoy: "It means your not stupid."

Syrio Forel: "What do we say to the god of death?"
Arya Stark: "Not today."
Syrio Forel: "Go!"

"I tried telling your brother, he's marching the wrong way. All these swords, they should be going north, boy, not south. The cold winds are rising."

"Tell Lord Tywin, winter is coming for him. Twenty thousand northerners marching south to find out if he really does shit gold."