When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.
The Gods gaνe men two gifts to entertain ourselνes before we die, the thrill of fucking a woman who wants to be fucked and the thrill of killing a man who wants to kill you.
Everything's better with some wine in the belly.
— I'm glad you're not dead.
— Me, too, dear. Death is so boring, especially now, with so much excitement in the world.
— What is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?
— Eνerything.