A line of ox carts were rumbling under the portcullis. Plunders, she knew at once. The riders escorting the carts spoke in a babble of queer tongues. Their armour glinted pale in the moonlight, and she saw a pair of striped black-and-white zorses. The Bloody Mummers. Arya withdrew a little deeper into the shadows, and watched as a huge black bear rolled by, caged in the black of a wagon. Other carts were loaded down with silver plate, weapons and shields, bags of flour, pens of squealing hogs and scrawny dogs and chickens.

-A Clash of Kings

Magister Illyrio murmured a command, and four burly slaves hurried forward, bearing between them a great cedar chest bound in bronze. When she opened it, she found piles of the finest velvets and damasks the Free Cities could produce... and resting on top, nestled in the soft cloth, three huge eggs. Dany gasped. They were the most beautiful things she had ever seen, each different than the others, patterned in such rich colours that at first she thought they were crusted with jewels, and so large it took both of her hands to hold one.

He is giving me his son's sword. Jon could scarcely believe it. The Blade was exquisitely balanced. The edges glimmered Faintly as they kissed the light.

​-A Game of Thrones

​"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, there to hear."
​"Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall, and not a soul to hear."

The Great Hall of Winter was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. Its grey stone walls were draped with banners. White, gold, crimson: the direwolf of Stark, Baratheon's crowned stag, the lion of Lannister.

- A Game of Thrones