And who are you, the proud Lord said, that I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat, that’s all the truth I know.
In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws
And mine are long and sharp, my Lord,
As long and sharp as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
That Lord of Castamere,
But now the rains weep o’er his halls,
With no one there to hear.
I’ve finished a Storm of Swords, Book Three in the Game of Thrones. I’ve decided not to write about it because I’ve surpassed the series and I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprises coming for the watchers.
I will say I had to put the book down for forty-five minutes once because I was so overwhelmed. And once at work, I gasped so loudly that people came over to me, thinking I had gotten a CNN update on my phone and something terrible had happened somewhere. “Only in Westeros,” I said.
There are so many WordPress posts about GoT and I never read any of them, not wanting to spoil anything for myelf. Two more books to go, then I’ll be able to comment on them.
My best advice for the HBO watchers is this: Bend the knee and read the books. They are so much fun and there is no reason to wait years to know what you could know now. Because, trust me. You know nothing.