I finished reading the second book of George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones) series a couple weeks ago. A Clash of Kings continues to expand the stories, so many story lines, independent and interwoven. I love it.
Check out these beautiful lines:
Page 97: The color of the ice was wont to change with every shift of the light. Now it was the deep blue of frozen rivers, now the dirty white of old snow, and when a cloud passed before the sun it darkened to the pale grey of pitted stone.
Page 147: The burning gods cast a pretty light, wreathed in their robes of shifting flame, red and orange and yellow.
Page 342: The white horse and the black one wheeled like lovers at a harvest dance, the riders throwing steel in place of kisses.
Page 398: At sixteen, he was cursed with all the certainty of youth, unleavened by any trace of humor or self-doubt, and wed to the arrogance that came so naturally to those born blond and strong and handsome.
Page 498: The long ranks of man and horse were armored in darkness, as black as if the Smith had hammered night itself into steel.
Page 708: Dawn was breaking, and pale ripples of light shimmered on the surface of the river, shattering under the poles and re-forming when the ferry had passed.
Page 960: A spark flew, caught. Osha blew softly. A long pale flame awoke, stretching upward like a girl on her toes. Osha's face floated above it.
