Bran Quotes

He is dead, right?"
"Graveyard dead," Bran admitted without a hint of remorse.
"Oh, forgive us," Rick murmured, crossing himself.
"Forgiveness is between him and God," Bran insisted. "It was my job to arrange the meeting."
"Man on Fire," Maddy blurted. ~ Julie Ann Walker

Wondering how I would make it through a hand-to-hand duel, I glanced around--and just then I saw one of Galdran's equerries fall from his saddle, his banner-spear spinning through the air toward me. Instinctively my free hand reached up and I caught the spear by the shaft. Ignoring the sting in my hand, I jammed my sword into its sheath and started whirling the spear round and round, making the banner snap and stream as my prancing, sidling horse circled round my brother. Horses turned their heads and backed away; no one was able to edge up and get in a good blow at Bran, who swayed in his saddle, his bad arm hanging limp. The warriors fell back, and no one swung at me.
Dimly I became aware of an ugly, harsh voice shouting over the crash and thuds of battle. Keeping the banner whirling, I guided my horse with my knees and risked a glance back over my shoulder--and looked straight into Galdran's rage-darkened face. He said something, spittle flying from his mouth, as he pointed straight at me.
A moment later a flicker of movement on my immediate left caused me to glance round. Shevraeth was there, next to me. "Fall back," he ordered, his voice sharp.
"No. Got to protect Bran--"
There was no time for more. The Marquis was beset by furious attackers as the King shouted orders from a short distance away. Then more riders appeared from somewhere, and for a moment everything was too chaotic to follow. I found myself suddenly on the edge of the battle; there were ~ Sherwood Smith

Bran asked his father , Can a man be brave if he is afraid? Thst is the only time a man can be brave replied his father. ~ George .R.R. Martini

The man had a hand down between her legs, and he must have been hurting her there, because the woman started to moan, low in her throat. ~ George R R Martin

Sansa sat with her hands folded in her lap, watching with a strange fascination. She had never seen a man die before. She ought to be crying too, she thought, but the tears would not come. Perhaps she had used up all her tears for Lady and Bran. It would be different if it had been Jory or Ser Rodrik or Father, she told herself. The young man in the blue cloak was nothing to her, some stranger from the Vale of Arryn whose name she had forgotten as soon as she heard it. And now the world would forget his name too, Sansa realized; there would be no songs sung for him. That was sad. ~ George R R Martin

The dining room was formidably elegant--I couldn't take it in all at once. A swift glance gave the impression of the family colors, augmented by gold, blended with artistry and grace. The table was high, probably to accommodate the elderly Prince. The chairs, one for each diner, were especially fine--no angles, everything curves and ovals and pleasing lines.
The meal, of course, was just as good. Again I left the others to work at a polite conversation. I bent my attention solely to my food, eating a portion of every single thing offered, until at last--and I never thought it would happen again, so long it had been--I was truly stuffed.
This restored to me a vestige of my customary good spirits, enough so that when the Prince asked me politely if the dinner had been sufficient, and if he could have anything else brought out, I smiled and said, "It was splendid. Something to remember all my life. But--" I realized I was babbling, and shut up.
The Prince's dark eyes narrowed with amusement, though his mouth stayed solemn--I knew I'd seen that expression before. "Please. You have only to ask."
"I don't want a thing. It was more a question, and that is: If you can eat like this every day, why aren't you fatter than five oxen?"
Bran set his goblet down, his eyes wide. "Burn it, Mel, I was just thinking the very same!"
That was the moment I realized that, though our rank was as high as theirs, or nearly, and our name as old, Branaric and I must have s ~ Sherwood Smith

Bran grabbed her sleeve, forcing her to look at him. "What in the hell is goin' on with you?" "What is wrong with me? What is wrong with your goats? They're evil! And they're laughing at me! Look at their smug little goat faces! Go on. Look at them! ~ Lorelei James

That won't do any good, the crow said. I told you, the answer is flying, not crying. How hard can it be? I'm doing it. The crow took to the air and flapped around Bran's hand.
"You have wings," Bran pointed out.
Maybe you do too.
Bran felt along his shoulders, groping for feathers.
There are different kinds of wings, the crow said. ~ George R R Martin

He was right! Said you'd go straight after 'em, sword and knife. What's with you?"
"You said, 'A trap.' I thought it was them," I muttered through suddenly numb lips. "Wasn't it?"
"Didn't you see the riding of greeners?" Bran retorted. "It was Debegri, right enough. He had paid informants in those inns, for he was on the watch for your return. Why d'you think Vidanric sent the escort?"
"Vidanric?"
"His name," Branaric said, still staring at me with that odd gaze. "You could try to use it--only polite. After all, Shevraeth is just a title, and he doesn't go about calling either of us Tlanth."
I'd rather cut out my tongue, I thought, but I said nothing.
"Anyway--life, sister--if he'd wanted me dead, why not in the comfort of his own home, where he could do a better job?"
I shook my head. "It made sense to me."
"It makes sense when you have a castle-sized grudge." He sighed. "It was the Renselaeus escort, hard on their heels, that attacked Debegri's gang and saved my life. Our friend the Marquis wasn't far behind--he'd just found out about the spies, he said. Between us we pieced together what happened, and what I said, and what you'd likely do. I thought you'd stay home. He said you'd ride back down the mountain breathing fire and hunting his blood. He was right." He stared to laugh, but it came out a groan, and he closed his eyes for a long breath. Then, "Arrow clipped me on the right, or I'd be finished. But I can't talk long--I'm alrea ~ Sherwood Smith

Bran's father sat solemnly on his horse, long brown hair stirring in the wind. His closely trimmed beard was shot with white, making him look older than his thirty-five years. He had a grim cast to his grey eyes this day, and he seemed not at all the man who would sit before the fire in the evening and talk softly of the age of heroes and the children of the forest. He had taken off Father's face, Bran thought, and donned the face of Lord Stark of Winterfell. There ~ George R R Martin

Thinking of Osha made Bran wonder where she was. He pictured her safe in White Harbor with Rickon and Shaggydog, eating eels and fish and hot crab pie with fat Lord Manderly. ~ George R R Martin

I found him in the kitchen, at the table in the bay window, already eating his cereal.
"I was going to fix you breakfast," I said.
He grinned. "I wouldn't want you to put yourself out."
"No one can pour cereal like I can. That's true."
I crossed the kitchen. He scooted his chair back, and I sat on his lap and put my arms on his shoulders.
"Good morning," I said, right before I kissed him.
Oh, yes, this was definitely the way to start the day.
"We're in the house," he said when we stopped kissing. "Thought we had a rule about not kissing in the house."
"Yeah, we also had a house rule--no falling for the player living with us. You see how good I am at following rules."
He grinned. "Lucky for me. Why don't you come to Ruby Tuesday for lunch?"
"Okay."
"Then practice."
"Definitely."
"Maybe we could do something afterward."
"Absolutely."
He kissed me again. He tasted like bran flakes and raisins and bananas.
Me, I tasted like chocolate chip cookie dough.
It was an odd combination but it somehow worked. ~ Rachel Hawthorne

Mercy might be mated to Adam, but to his wolf she would always belong to Bran. Would always be his little coyote, who was tough and defiant, raised by a good friend because Bran couldn't trust his mate with someone he cared about who was more fragile than his grown sons. ~ Patricia Briggs

Theon Greyjoy had once commented that Hodor did not know much, but no one could doubt that he knew his name. Old Nan had cackled like a hen when Bran told her that, and confessed that Hodor's real name was Walder. No one knew where "Hodor" had come from, she said, but when he started saying it, they started calling him by it. It was the only word he had. ~ George R R Martin

Bran spread his arms and flew. ~ George R R Martin

I don't know what message to send to Bran. Help him Tyrion."
"What help could I give him? I am no maester, to ease his pain. I have no spell to give him back his legs."
"You gave me help when I needed it" Jon Snow said.
"I gave you nothing," Tyrion said. "Words."
"Then give your words to Bran too. ~ George R R Martin

Do trees dream?" "Trees? No . . ." "They do," Bran said with sudden certainty. "They dream tree dreams. I dream of a tree sometimes. A weirwood, like the one in the godswood. It calls to me. The wolf dreams are better. I smell things, and sometimes I can taste the blood. ~ George R R Martin

It seemed as he had been falling for years. Fly, a voice whispered in the darkness, but Bran did not know how to fly, so all he could do was fall. ~ George R R Martin

When I woke again, I was in darkness.
Fighting my way to awareness, I realized I'd heard sharp voices. Yells echoed back and forth, calling commands to different ridings; from the distance there came the clang and clash of steel.
It's Bran, I thought, elated and fearful. He's attacking the camp!
As if in answer, I heard his voice. "Mel! Mel!"
I rolled to my knees, fighting against invisible knives of pain. One more cry of "Mel!" at slightly more of a distance enabled me to gather my courage and stand up.
Diving through the tent flap, I screamed with all my failing strength, "BRAN!" And I clutched at the tent to keep myself from falling full-length on the muddy ground. A light mist bathed my face, making me shiver--a distant part of me acknowledged that in addition to everything else I had a pretty hot fever going.
"Meliara! Mel! Mel!" A number of voices took up the cry, and I realized that all our people must have attacked.
Again I gathered all my strength and started forward. Which was a mistake. My left foot simply refused to carry my weight.
I started to fall, felt hard hands catching one of my arms. My leg jolted--and thank goodness, that finished me. ~ Sherwood Smith

Yes, well," said his da with a hint of a grow that told him just how worried Bran had been about him, "that'll teach you to dodge a bit quicker next time."
"Sorry," he apologized meekly as he sat in the passenger seat.
"Good," said Bran, shutting the door gently. "Don't let it happen again."
-Bran and Charles ~ Patricia Briggs

Bran held his voice leve. "In time,you will regret these words. You may hold me captive now, and believe me helpless. But each foulword you speak of her brings your death a little closer."
Bran to Eamonn ~ Juliet Marillier

Hodor," said Hodor. "Hodor," Bran agreed. ~ George R R Martin

The pattern of a newspaperman's life is like the plot of 'Black Beauty.' Sometimes he finds a kind master who gives him a dry stall and an occasional bran mash in the form of a Christmas bonus, sometimes he falls into the hands of a mean owner who drives him in spite of spavins and expects him to live on potato peelings. ~ A.J. Liebling

It's fandom, Bran. Getting butthurt over nothing is practically a sacrament. ~ J.C. Lillis

I expertly angled my raison bran to accomodate the g-forces. ~ John Green

But, honey, the worst mistake beats the hell out of never tryin ~ Julie Ann Walker

Maureen O'Brien's Bakery Lingo: A Partial Glossary
• 9 donuts - A shutout
• 2 croissants - A full moon
• 3 croissants - A ménage à trois
• 4 bear claws - Full smokey
• 2 bear claws - Half smokey
• The last one of any item - The gift of the Magi
• A baker's dozen of doughnut holes - a PG-13
• Anything in the unlikely quantity of 36 or a lot of something - A Wu-Tang
• Blueberry muffin - Chubby Checker
• Bran muffin - Warren G the regulator
• Any customer who left no tip - A libertarian
• Any customer who only tipped the coins from their change - A couch shaker
• Any person who requested a substitution - Master and demander
• Any person who requested TWO substitutions - Demander in chief
• Any person who requested MORE than two substitutions - The new executive chef

and finally....

• Any vegan customer - A Morrissey ~ J. Ryan Stradal

Bran had heard his brother's mate Fia call Keelin one of the great beauties of the dragon race and it was true. Dressed in what he considered battle gear, Keelin was a wet dream come to life. ~ Katie Reus

Adam has always had ... heroic tendencies."
I touched Adam's arm. "He's my hero."
There was another pause ...
"That is the most romantic thing I've ever heard you say," Bran said. "Be careful, Adam, or you'll turn her into a real girl."
Adam looked at me. "I like her just the way she is, Bran." And he meant it, greasy overalls, broken fingernails, and all. ~ Patricia Briggs

Loss of prestige? In what way?" I asked.
He sat back, his eyes glinting with amusement. "First there was the matter of a--very--public announcement of a pending execution, following which the intended victim escapes. Then…didn't you stop to consider that the countryside folk who endured many long days of constant martial interference in the form of searches, curfews, and threats might have a few questions about the justice of said threats--or the efficacy of all these armed and mounted soldiery tramping through their fields and farms unsuccessfully trying to flush a single unarmed, rather unprepossessing individual? Especially when said individual took great care not to endanger anyone beyond the first--anonymous--family to give her succor, to whom she promised there would be no civil war?"
I gasped. "I never promised that. How could I? I promised that Bran and I wouldn't carry our fight into their territory."
Shevraeth's smile was wry. "But you must know how gossip gets distorted when it burns across the countryside, faster than a summer hayfire. And you had given the word of a countess. You have to remember that a good part of our…influence…is vouchsafed in our status, after the manner of centuries of habit. It is a strength and a weakness, a good and an evil."
I winced, thinking of Ara, who knew more about history than I did.
"Though you seem to be completely unaware of it, you have become a heroine to the entire kingdom. What is probably more impo ~ Sherwood Smith

At the root of the tree at the heart of the world,
With a chain round his neck, the Wolf lies curled.
His gleaming teeth and jaws are furled,
And the sun shall rise in the morning.
His chain, it is forged of the nerve of a bear,
Of the voice of a fish, and a girl's chin-hair.
His chain, it is light and strong and fair,
And the sun shall rise in the morning.
With a mountain's root, and a cat's foot-fall,
And the spit of a bird, he is held in thrall,
Though iron could bind him never at all,
And the sun shall rise in the morning.
The sun shall rise, the stars shall fade,
For the binding which the good gods made
Still loops the Wolf in its lovely braid,
And the sun shall rise in the morning. ~ Maculategiraffe

Is that for me to do my work as the Chosen One, I need Bran to help me. So you must find a way to help him save his wings, or he stays here with us as a demon. If you force him to leave, I leaving with him. If he goes, I go, too. ~ Ednah Walters

In a slow, pleasant voice, Prince Alaerec asked mild questions--weather, travel, Bran's day and how he'd filled it. I stayed silent as the three of them worked away at this limping conversation. The Renselaeus father and son were skilled enough at nothing-talk, but poor Bran stumbled over half his words, sending frequent glances at me. In the past I'd often spoken for both of us, for truth was he felt awkward with his tongue and was somewhat shy with new people, but I did not feel like speaking until I'd sorted my emotions out--and there was no time for that.
To bridge his own feelings, my brother gulped at the very fine wine they offered. Soon a servant came in and announced that dinner was ready, and the old Prince rose slowly, leaning heavily on a cane. His back was straight, though, as he led the way to a dining room. Bran and I fell in behind, I treading cautiously, with my skirts bunched in either hand.
Bran snickered. I looked up, saw him watching me, his face flushed. "Life, Mel, are you supposed to walk like that?" He snickered again, swallowed the rest of his third glass of wine, then added, "Looks like you got eggs in those shoes."
"I don't know how I'm supposed to walk," I mumbled, acutely aware of that bland-faced, elegantly dressed Marquis right behind us, and elbowed Bran in the side. "Stop laughing! If I drop these skirts, I'll trip over them."
"Why didn't you just ask for riding gear?"
"And a coach-and-six while I was at it? This is w ~ Sherwood Smith

Aubade"

I know my leaving in the breakfast table mess.
Bowl spills into bowl: milk and bran, bread crust
crumbled. You push me back into bed.

More "honey" and "baby."
Breath you tell my ear circles inside me,
curls a damp wind and runs the circuit
of my limbs. I interrogate the air,

smell Murphy's Oil Soap, dog kibble.
No rose. No patchouli swelter. And your mouth -
sesame, olive. The nudge of your tongue
behind my top teeth.

To entirely finish is water entering water.
Which is the cup I take away?

More turning me. Less your arms reaching
around my back. You ask my ear
where I have been and my body answers,
all over kingdom come. ~ Amber Flora Thomas

So you didn't have any reason to be so mad I wrecked the car," I said, triumphantly.
Samuel laughed out loud. "You still haven't figured it out, have you, Mercy? He never was mad about the car. He was the first one at the scene of the accident. He thought you'd killed yourself. We all did. That was a pretty spectacular wreck."
I started to say something and found I couldn't. The first thing I'd seen after hitting the tree was the Marrok's snarling face. I'd never seen him that angry - and I'd done a lot, from time to time, to inspire his rage. ~ Patricia Briggs

Bran knew. "She's a child. A child of the forest." He shivered, as much from wonderment as cold. They had fallen into one of Old Nan's tales.
"The First Men named us children," the little woman said. "The giants called us wok dak nag gran, the squirrel people, because we were small and quick and fond of trees, but we are no squirrels, no children. Our name in the True Tongue means those who sing the song of the earth. Before your Old Tongue was ever spoken, we had sun our songs ten thousand years."
Meera said, "You speak the Common Tongue now."
"For him. The Bran boy. I was born in the time of the dragon, and for two hundred years I walked the world of men, to watch and listen and learn. I might be walking still, but my legs were sore and my heart was weary, so I turned my feet for home."
"Two hundred years?" said Meera.
The child smiled. "Men, they are the children. ~ George R R Martin

The man looked over at the woman. "The things I do for love," he said with loathing. He gave Bran a shove. ~ George R R Martin

Then the day came when a new column was spotted riding up behind Debegri's force. We almost missed them, for we had also begun staying in a tight group. But luckily Khesot, cautious since his days in the terrible Pirate Wars, still sent pairs of scouts on rounds in all four directions twice a day.
It was Seliar, of my group, who spotted them first. She reported to me, and the rest of us crept down the hillside to watch the camp below. We saw at the head of the column a man wearing a long black cloak.
Debegri emerged, bowed. The newcomer bowed in return and handed the Baron a rolled paper. They went inside Debegri's tent, and when they emerged, the stranger had the white plume of leadership on his helm. Debegri's glower was plain even at the distance we watched from.
Backing up from our vantage, we retreated to our camp.
Bran and Khesot and the other riding leaders were all gathered under our old, patched rain cover when we reached them. Seliar blurted out what we'd seen.
Branaric grinned all through the story. At the end I said, "This is obviously no surprise. What news had you?"
Bran nodded to where a mud-covered young woman sat in front of one of the tents, attacking a bowl of stew as if she hadn't eaten in a week. "Messenger just arrived from Azmus, or it would have been a surprise. Galdran has taken his cousin off the command. He'd apparently expected us to last two weeks at most."
"Well, who is this new commander? Ought we to be afraid ~ Sherwood Smith

The problem with being ravished by books at an early age is that later rereadings are often likely to disappoint. "The sharp luscious flavor, the fine aroma is fled," Hazlitt wrote, "and nothing but the stalk, the bran, the husk of literature is left." Terrible words, but it can happen. You become harder to move, frighten, arouse, provoke, jangle. Your education becomes an interrogation lamp under which the hapless book, its every wart and scar exposed, confesses its guilty secrets: "My characters are wooden! My plot creaks! I am pre-feminist, pre-deconstructivist, and pre-postcolonialist!" (The upside of English classes is that they give you critical tools, some of which are useful, but the downside is that those tools make you less able to shower your books with unconditional love. Conditions are the very thing you're asked to learn.) You read too many other books, and the currency of each one becomes debased. ~ Anne Fadiman

You're young forever when you write. Alfred Hitchcock directed until the day he died. As long as you don't have any dementia or Alzheimer's, if you have your All-Bran every day and clear yourself out, I think your brains are gonna be all right. ~ Mel Brooks

As he spoke, the edges of the clay man began shimmering, like air does in intense heat, and the lumpen form gradually became more manlike. "Something's happening!" I cried. I was paralyzed by shock and hope. "Please let it work. Come back, Vincent. You have to come back, I whispered, pleading.
Red clay became olive-toned skin, and the bald head became waves of raven black hair. The face that Jules had carefully sculpted became a real nose and mouth and eyes, closed as if in sleep. But it lay there, still unmoving, until, focusing on the air just above, Bran yelled, "Come, bardia spirit, inhabit this body!" He made one final sweeping gesture, as if pulling the aura downward, and touching his fingers to the body's side.
The eyes flew open and Vincent took a great gulping gasp, as if trying to swallow all of the oxygen in the room.
"Vincent," I said, my heart in my throat.
His eyes flew to mine. He reached toward me, and I took his hand and pressed it to my cheek. His skin was burning hot, like with a fever. I kissed his fingers, and his skin smelled like fire and rain-soaked earth. Like the boy I thought I would never touch again. ~ Amy Plum

One day [the prince] lost sight of his retinue in a great forest. These forests are very useful in delivering princes from their courtiers, like a sieve that keeps back the bran. Then the princes get away to follow their fortunes. In this they have the advantage of the princesses, who are forced to marry before they have had a bit of fun. I wish our princesses got lost in a forest sometimes. ~ George MacDonald

I remember something Bran said when we were hiking in Tasmania, about how people believe they see the same river but the water is always different. I am that river. ~ Lia Riley

His body was so skeletal and his clothes so rotted that at first Bran took him for another corpse, a dead man propped up so long that the roots had grown over him, under him, and through him. What skin the corpse lord showed was white, save for a bloody blotch that crept up his neck onto his cheek. ~ George R R Martin

He lunged for the maps. I grabbed the chair and hit him with it. He went down. I hit him again to make sure he stayed that way, stepped over him, and picked up the maps.
I win. ~ Ilona Andrews

We've gone through some kind of a metamorphosis over the years. We've made food very easy to get calories from." He talked about the greater degree to which we refine foods now; an example is how we mill away the bran from brown rice and whole wheat flour. As a result the food is "light, it's white, it's very easy to swallow. It doesn't obstruct you in any way. It's easy to get a lot of calories without a lot of chewing."
Because this kind of food disappears down our throats so quickly after the first bite, it readily overrides the body's signals that should tell us "I'm full. ~ David A. Kessler

never told it to you?" Bran shook his head. ~ George R R Martin

The stone is strong. Bran told himself, the roots of the trees go deep, and under the ground the Kings of Winter sit their thrones. So long as those remained, Winterfell remained. It was not dead, just broken. Like me, he thought. I'm not dead either. ~ George R R Martin

Bran grabbed my hand,pulled me to a chest, and swung the heavy lid open. A white cloth covered the contents. He jerked it aside. Human heads filled the chest.
"Oh God."
He scooped a mummified head from the chest by a scalp lock and thrust it at me. "All of them are mine."
This was officially the weirdest version of "come down to my place and I'll show you some etchings" I've ever been hit with. ~ Ilona Andrews

He liked how it felt too, pulling himself up a wall stone by stone, fingers and toes digging hard into the small crevices between. He always took off his boots and went barefoot when he climbed; it made him feel as if he had four hands instead of two. He liked the deep, sweet ache it left in the muscles afterward. He liked the way the air tasted way up high, sweet and cold as a winter peach. He liked the birds: the crows in the broken tower, the tiny little sparrows that nested in cracks between the stones, the ancient owl that slept in the dusty loft above the old armory. Bran knew them all. Most of all, he liked going places that no one else could go, and seeing the grey sprawl of Winterfell in a way that no one else ever saw it. ~ George R R Martin

I sobbed harder into Mom's chest. I chose not to waste time explaining that it was okay - even fun - to play with Bran while we were in first and second grade. Now, the idea of hanging out with a short kid who always smelled like onions and went to school with cookie dough under his fingernails made me want to run and hide. ~ Magaly Guerrero

When the spirit stepped out of the open tomb, pale white and moaning for blood, Sansa ran shrieking for the stairs, and Bran wrapped himself around Robb's leg, sobbing. Arya stood her ground and gave the spirit a punch. It was only Jon, covered with flour. "You stupid," she told him, "you scared the baby," but Jon and Robb just laughed and laughed, and pretty soon Bran and Arya were laughing too. ~ George R R Martin

He said." Jojen frowned. "This ... Coldhands?"
"That wasn't his true name," said Gilly, rocking. "We only called him that, Sam and me. His hands were cold as ice, but he saved us from the dead men, him and his ravens, and he brought us here on his elk."
"His elk?" said Bran, wonderstruck.
"His elk?" said Meera, startled.
"His ravens?" said Jojen.
"Hodor?" said Hodor.
"Was he green?" Bran wanted to know. "Did he have antlers?"
The fat man was confused. "The elk?"
"Coldhands," said Bran impatiently. "The green men ride on elks, Old Nan used to say. Sometimes they have antlers too. ~ George R R Martin

He whirled in the water and grinned at me. Damn, he was a handsome bastard. I realized he was half-naked. Blue swirls of tattoos painted his chest. When God made that chest, he did to tempt women. ~ Ilona Andrews

Bran was relieved ... but disappointed too. So long as there was magic, anything could happen. Ghosts could walk, trees could talk, and broken boys could grow up to be knights. "But there isn't," he said aloud in the darkness of his bed. "There's no magic, and the stories are just stories." And he would never walk, nor fly, nor be a knight. ~ George R R Martin

It will not matter. The dream was green, Bran, and the green dreams do not lie. ~ George R R Martin

Sometimes the knights are the monsters, Bran. ~ George R R Martin

I just like Raisin Bran - it keeps me regular. ~ Gretchen Wilson

Bran was the only person I knew who could use words like "blackguard" and make them sound like swear words-but then he could have said "bunny rabbit" in that tone of voice and weaken my spine with the same shiver of fear. ~ Patricia Briggs

And like in a movie I appear in front of the D'Agostino's, sale's clerks beckoning for me to enter, and I'm using an expired coupon for a box of oat-bran cereal and the girl at the checkout counter
black, dumb,slow
doesn't get it, doesn't notice the expiration date has passed even though it's the only thing I buy, and I get a small but incendiary thrill when I walk out of the store, opening the box, stuffing handfuls of the cereal into my mouth, trying to whistle "Hips to Be Square". ~ Bret Easton Ellis

Give me liberty or give me a bran muffin! ~ Colin Mochrie

I always carry yeast flakes and bran with me when I travel. ~ Jane Fonda

Not cry. Fly.
"I can't fly," Bran said. "I can't, I can't…"
How do you know? Have you ever tried?
The voice was high and thin. Bran looked around to see where it was coming from. A crow was spiraling down with him, just out of touch, following him as he fell. "Help me," he said.
I'm trying, the crow replied…
The crow took to the air and flapped around Bran's hand.
"You have wings," Bran pointed out.
Maybe you do too.
Bran felt along his shoulders, groping for feathers.
There are different kinds of wings, the crow said…
Bran was falling faster than ever. The grey mists howled around him as he plunged toward the earth below. "What are you doing to me?" he asked the crow, tearful.
Teaching you how to fly.
"I can't fly!"
You're flying right now.
"I'm falling!"
Every flight begins with a fall, the crow said. Look down. ~ George R.R. Martin

A TV show comprises many departments - Costumes, Props, Talent, Graphics, Set Dressing, Transportation. Everyone in every department wants to show off their skills and contribute creatively to the show, which is a blessing. You're grateful to work with people who are talented and enthusiastic about their jobs. You would think that as a producer, your job would be to churn up creativity, but mostly your job is to police enthusiasm. You may have an occasion where the script calls for a bran muffin on a white plate and the Props Department shows up with a bran cake in the shape of Santa Claus sitting on a silver platter that says "Welcome to Denmark." "We just thought it would be funny." And you have to find a polite way to explain that the character is Jewish, so her eating Santa's face might have negative connotations, and the silver tray, while beautiful, is giving a weird glare on camera and maybe let's go with the bran muffin on the white plate. And then sometimes Actors have what they call "ideas." Usually it involves them talking more, or, in the case of more experienced actors, sitting more. When Actors have ideas it's very important to get to the core reason behind their idea. ~ Tina Fey

I might be bluffing, you miserable, vomitous mass!" Bran yelled. Oh, for heaven's sake. Really? He's quotin' The Princess Bride? ~ Julie Ann Walker

If he didn't talk about it, maybe he would forget. He had never wanted to remember. It might not even be a true remembering." - Bran ~ George R R Martin

One of my earliest memories is being backstage at 'Bran Nue Dae' in Darwin when I was about eight. It's such a fun, happy show and a real celebration of being Aboriginal ... it felt really great and achievable as a career. It all felt normal. ~ Shari Sebbens

Still in the black hemisphere the stars blazed and slowly wheeled; beneath them, Will felt so infinitesimally small that it seemed impossible he should even exist. Immensity pressed in on him, terrifying, threatening
and then, in a swift flash of movement like a dance, like the glint of a leaping fish, came a flick of brightness in the sky from a shooting star ... He heard Bran give a small chirrup of delight, a spark struck from the same bright sudden joy that filled his own being. ~ Susan Cooper

He'd woken up after flying from Boston to Montana to find his da cooking breakfast for them: sausage and pancakes shaped like deer. It wasn't just any deer, either - they looked like Bambi from the disney cartoon. Charles didn't want to know how his father had managed that ~ Patricia Briggs

'Oh, gods,' said Holden, halfway into his tunic. 'I can't believe it's taken me five years to realize your one tragic flaw. You're a morning person. Stop being so chipper right now. At least until I've had my coffee.' ~ Maculategiraffe

Curse it," Bran said the next morning, standing before the fire in shirt and trousers with his shoulder stiffy bandaged. "You think this necessary?"
He pointed at the mail coats lying on the table, their linked steel rings gleaming coldly in the light of two glowglobes. It was well before dawn. The Marquis had woken us himself, with the news that Galdran's forces were nigh. And his messengers had brought from Renselaeus the mail coats, newly made and expensive.
"Treachery--" Shevraeth paused to cough and to catch his breath. He, too, stood there in only shirt and trousers and boots, and I looked away quickly, embarrassed. "We should be prepared for treachery. It was his idea to send archers against you in the mountains. He will have them with him now." He coughed again, the rattling cough of a heavy cold.
I sighed. My own fever and aches had all settled into my throat, and my voice was gone.
Bran was the worst off. Besides the wound in his shoulder, he coughed, sneezed, and sounded hoarse. His eyes and nose watered constantly. Luckily the Renselaeus munificence extended to a besorceled handkerchief that stayed dry and clean despite its heavy use.
Groaning and wincing, Bran lifted his arm just high enough for a couple of equerries to slip the chain mail over his head. As it settled onto him, chinging softly, he winced and said, "Feels like I've got a horse lying athwart my shoulders."
I picked up the one set aside for me and retreated to my room t ~ Sherwood Smith

In silence, they filed past me, and I was left alone with the person who, the day before, I'd wanted to kill even more than Galdran Merindar.
"Take a swig." Shevraeth held out a flagon. "You're going to need it, I'm afraid."
I crossed the room, sank cross-legged onto the nearest mat. With one numb hand I took the flagon, squeezed a share of its contents into my mouth; and gasped as the fire of distilled bristic burned its way inside me. I took a second sip and with stinging eyes handed the flagon back.
"Blue lips," he said, with that faint smile. "You're going to have a whopping cold."
I looked up at the color burning along his cheekbones, and the faint lines of strain in his forehead, and made a discovery. "So are you," I said. "Hah!" I added, obscurely pleased.
His mouth quirked. "Do you have any questions?"
"Yes." My voice came out hoarse, and I cleared my throat. "Bran said Galdran is coming after us. Why? I thought it had been made abundantly clear that--thanks to you--we were defeated, and that was after he'd already decided we were of no account."
"Here. Eat something." He pulled the tray over and pointed to the bread-and-cheese on it, and at the half of some kind of fruit tart.
I picked up the bread and bit into it as he said, "But his cousin did not encompass your defeat, despite the fact that you were outnumbered and outmaneuvered. This is the more galling for Galdran, you must understand, when you consider the enormous loss o ~ Sherwood Smith

When we reached our hall, Nee offered to share hot chocolate with me. Shaking my head, I pleaded tiredness
true enough
and retreated to my rooms.
And discovered something lying on the little table in the parlor where letters and invitations were supposed to be put.
Moving slowly across the room, I looked down at an exquisite porcelain sphere. It was dark blue, with silver stars all over it, and so cunningly painted that when I looked closer it gave the illusion of depth
as if I stared deeply into the sky.
Lifting it with reverent care, I opened it and saw, sitting on a white silk nest, a lovely sapphire ring. Trying it on my fingers, I found to my delight it fit my longest one.
Why couldn't Bran give me this in person? There were times when I found my brother incomprehensible, but I knew he thought the same of me.
Puzzled, but content, I fell asleep with my ringed hand cradled against my cheek. ~ Sherwood Smith

Our plan depended on the Renselaeus warriors being fast and accurate and brave, for they were as outnumbered as Bran and I had been up in the mountains.
I was also, therefore, intensely aware that my life was now in the hands of people I had considered enemies not two dawns ago. Did they still consider me one?
I tried to calm my nerves by laughing at myself; for someone who so recently had tried her best to ride to her death, my innards were a pit of snakes, and my palms were sweaty despite the rain. Bran was alive, I was alive, and suddenly I wanted to stay that way. I wanted to go home and clean out the castle and replant Mama's garden. I wanted to see Oria and Julen and Khesot again, and I wanted to walk on the high peaks and dance with the Hill Folk on long summer nights, miming age-old stories to the windborne music…
I blinked. Had I just heard a reed pipe?
I lifted my head and listened, heard nothing but the thud of hooves and clatter of our accoutrements, and the soft rain in the leaves overhead. ~ Sherwood Smith

Bran dropped his sword and rushed to her. "Miss Enya. ~ Amy Jarecki

I'd rather put on a lifejacket lined with razor blades and jump into a pool of rubbing alcohol," she said.
"But--"
"I'd rather jab sharpened pencils into my eyes."
"But --"
"Id' rather eat three-day-old road kill."
"I get it," Mason grumbled.. "You're not trading places."
Bran grinned. "What was your first clue? ~ Julie Ann Walker

It was a while before my mind was quiet enough for reading. The conversation with Shevraeth I was determined not to think about. What was the use? It was over, and it was clear it wasn't going to be repeated.
Recalling the name he'd mentioned, Lady Trishe
one of the names Bran had spoken earlier that morning
I realized it was Shevraeth they were planning to go riding with. She wouldn't enjoy this ride was what Nee had said, meaning that I wouldn't enjoy it because Shevraeth would be along. What it probably also meant, I realized glumly, was that they wouldn't enjoy having me along if I glared at Shevraeth and started squabbling. ~ Sherwood Smith

If I could wish the Kingslayer back in chains I would. You freed him without my knowledge or consent ... but what you did, I know you did for love. For Arya and Sansa, and out of grief for Bran and Rickon. Love's not always wise, I've learned. It can lead us to great folly, but we follow our hearts ... wherever they take us. Don't we, Mother? ~ George R R Martin

Bran was always a deceptive bastard, gentle and mild right up until he ripped your throat out. He had many other fine qualities as well. ~ Patricia Briggs

Work went on monotonously, and our constant hunger was wrenching. Rice powder and bran, which I sometimes roasted in an attempt to give it some flavor, had torn my insides to shreds. One morning I didn't have the strength to get up, and no one came to see what had happened to me. Everyone was so used to having people just disappear. ~ Molyda Szymusiak

I'm going out for muffins." "Give me five minutes to get my shoes on." "I don't have five minutes," I said. "I have things to do. I've got the panic button. I'll be fine. I'll bring a muffin back for you. What do you want, zucchini, no fat, no sugar, extra bran?" I turned to go and Ranger scooped me up and carried me into the bedroom and tossed me onto the bed. "Five minutes," he said, lacing his shoes. I lay there spread-eagle, waiting for him. "Very macho," I said. He grabbed my hand and yanked me to my feet. "Sometimes you try my patience. ~ Janet Evanovich

What did you do with your life, Master Bran?" she demanded accusingly. "More to the point, what will you do with your life now that you have it back? ~ Stephen R. Lawhead

You thought you'd never give up your vocation, a voice whispered inside me. You thought you'd never even consider it. But you've met the one man who could change your mind. He is your perfect complement. He is Cathal to your Clodagh; he is Bran to your Liadan. No wonder you conjured up those images. No wonder they make you weep. ~ Juliet Marillier

That night, after the lates had been cleared, Robb carried Bran up to bed himself. Grey Wind led the way, and Summer came close behind. His brother was strong for his age, and Bran was as light as a bundle of rags, but the stairs were steep and dark, and Robb was breathing hard by the time they reached the top.

He put Bran into bed, covered him with blankets, and blew out the candle. For a time Robb sat beside him in the dark. Bran wanted to talk to him, but he did not know what to say. "We'll find a horse for you, I promise," Robb whispered at last.

"Are they ever coming back?" Bran asked him.

"Yes," Robb said with such hope in his voice that Bran knew he was hearing his brother and not just Robb the Lord. "Mother will be home soon. Maybe we can ride out to meet her when she comes. Wouldn't that surprise her, to see you ahorse?" Even in the dark room, Bran could feel his brother's smile. "And afterward, we'll ride north to see the Wall. We won't even tell Jon we're coming, we'll just be there one day, you and me. It will be an adventure."

"An adventure," Bran repeated wistfully. He heard his brother sob. The room was so dark he could not see the tears on Robb's face, so he reached out and found his hand. Their fingers twined together. ~ George R.R. Martin

Hodor squatted down beside the door, rocking back and forth on his haunches and muttering, "Hodor, hodor, hodor." Bran ~ George R R Martin

What?" I yelled. And I opened my mouth to complain Nobody told me anything, but I recalled a certain interview, not long ago, that had ended rather abruptly when a candleholder had--ah--changed hands. Grimacing, I said in a more normal voice, "When did this happen?"
"That's the joke on us." Bran laughed. "They've been at it as long as we have. Longer, even."
I looked from father to son and read nothing in those bland, polite faces. "Then…why…didn't you respond to our letter?"
As I spoke the words, a lot of things started making sense.
I thought back to what Ara's father had said, and then I remembered Shevraeth's words about the purpose of a court. When I glanced at Prince Alaerec, he saluted me with his wineglass; just a little gesture, but I read in it that he had comprehended a good deal of my thoughts.
Which meant that my face, as usual, gave me away--and of course this thought made my cheeks burn.
He said, "We admire--tremendously--your courageous efforts to right the egregious wrongs obtaining in Remalna."
Thinking again of Ara's father and Master Kepruid the innkeeper, I said, "But the people don't welcome armies trampling through their houses and land, even armies on their side. I take it you've figured out some miraculous way around this?"
Bran slapped his palm down on the table. "That's it, Mel--where we've been blind. We were trying to push our way in from without, but Shevraeth, here, has been working from within." He nodded ~ Sherwood Smith

The Oracle rose. As one, the three witches bowed.
"See?" Bran jerked his thumb at the three women. "That's how a woman should treat a man. Next time you see me, I want you to do just like them. ~ Ilona Andrews

I cannot say what it was that made me take that one step forward. Maybe it was the hesitation in his voice. I knew what it cost him to let himself speak thus. Maybe it was the memory of how he had looked as he slept. I just knew, overwhelmingly, that if I did not touch him I would shatter in pieces. Jump, cried the wind. Jump over. I shut my eyes and moved toward him, and my arms went around his waist, and I rested my head against his chest and let my tears flow. There, said the voice deep inside me. See how easy it was? Bran went very still; and then his arms came around me, quite cautiously, as if he had never done this before and was not at all sure how one went about it. We stood there awhile, and the feeling was good, so good, like a homecoming after long troubles. Until I held him, I did not realize how much I had longed for it. Until I held him, I did not realize he was just the right height to put his arms comfortably around my shoulders, for me to rest my brow in the hollow of his neck, where the blood pulsed under the skin - a perfect fit. ~ Juliet Marillier

One of the great enemies of design is when systems or objects become more complex than a person - or even a team of people - can keep in their heads. This is why software is generally beneath contempt. ~ Bran Ferren

You see, Bran Llyr is now one of us, a Cardinal Guardian. ~ Ednah Walters

Failure is a necessary ingredient for success. ~ Bran Ferren

She could smell the wrongness in the air and it made her wolf nervous. It felt like something was watching them, as if the wrongness had an intelligence - and it didn't help to remember that at least one of the people they were hunting could hide from their senses.
Anna fought the urge to turn around, to take Charles's hand or slide under his arm and let his presence drive away the wrongness. Once, she would have, but now she had the uneasy feeling that he might back away as he almost had when she sat on his lap in the boat, before Brother Wolf had taken over.
Maybe he was just tired of her. She had been telling everyone that there was something wrong with him...but Bran knew his son and thought the problem was her. Bran was smart and perceptive; she ought to have considered that he was right.
Charles was old. He'd seen and experienced so much - next to him she was just a child. His wolf had chosen her without consulting Charles at all. Maybe he'd have preferred someone who knew more. Someone beautiful and clever who...
"Anna?" said Charles. "What's wrong? Are you crying?" He moved in front of her and stopped, forcing her to stop walking, too.
She opened her mouth and his fingers touched her wet cheeks.
"Anna," he said, his body going still. "Call on your wolf."
"You should have someone stronger," she told him miserably. "Someone who could help you when you need it, instead of getting sent home because I can't endure what you have to ~ Patricia Briggs

I swear it by earth and water,"said the boy in green.
"I swear it by bronze and iron," his sister said.
"We swear it by ice and fire," they finished it together.
Bran groped for words. Was he supposed to swear something back to them.
"May your winters be short and your summers bountiful,"he said. ~ George R R Martin

Or been driven away," their father said, looking at the sixth pup. His fur was white, where the rest of the litter was grey. His eyes were as red as the blood of the ragged man who had died that morning. Bran thought it curious that this pup alone would have opened his eyes while the others were still blind. "An albino," Theon Greyjoy said with wry amusement. "This one will die even faster than the others." Jon Snow gave his father's ward a long, chilling look. "I think not, Greyjoy," he said. "This one belongs to me. ~ George R R Martin

That's why the bran muffins and the colonoscopies. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

You will never walk again, Bran," the pale lips promised, "but you will fly. ~ George R R Martin

From the railway station far away the sharp clang of a bell...In half an hour the train starts, and there is so much still to say that has been left unsaid...The mothers, fearful and fussy, look for their sons in among the crowd like hens in search of their chicks; their wizened faces are hard and wrinkled like winter apples, they carry huge baskets on their arms, over-filled with the last delicacies which their fond, toil-worn hands will prepare for the beloved son for the next three years:--a piece of smoked bacon, a loaf of rye bread, a cake of maize-flour.

The gypsies have struck up a melancholy Magyar folksong: the crowd breaks up in isolated groups, mothers and father with their sons whisper in the dark corners of the bran. The father who did his service thirty years ago gives sundry good advice - no rebellion, quiet obedience, no use complaining or grumbling, the three years are quickly over. The mother begs her darling not to give way to drink, and not to get entangled with one of the hussies in the towns; women and wine, the two besetting temptations that assail the Magyar peasant - let the darling boy resist both for his sorrowing mother's sake. ~ Emmuska Orczy

Didn't Azmus say Galdran promised the Court our heads on poles after two days?"
"So Debegri swore," Bran said, smiling a little.
"That means we've held out all these weeks despite the enormous odds against us, and word of this has to be reaching the rest of the kingdom. Maybe those eastern Counts will decide to join us--and some of the other grass-backed vacillators as well," I finished stoutly.
Bran grinned. "Maybe so," he said. "And you're right. The higher Shevraeth drives us, the more familiar the territory. If we plan aright, we can lead them on a fine shadow chase and pick them off as they run. Maybe more traps…"
Khesot's lips compressed, and I shivered again. "More traps? You've already put out a dozen. Bran, I really hate those things."
Branaric winced, then he shook his head, his jaw tightening. "This is war. Baron Debegri was the first to start using arrows, despite the Code of War, and now Shevraeth has got us cut off from our own castle--and our supplies. We have to use every weapon to hand, and if that means planting traps for their unwary feet, so be it."
I sighed. "It is so…dishonorable. We have outlawed the use of traps against animals for over a century. And what if the Hill Folk stumble onto one?"
"I told you last week," Bran said, "my first command to those placing the traps is to lay sprigs of stingflower somewhere nearby. The Hill Folk won't miss those. Their noses will warn them to tread lightly long before their eyes w ~ Sherwood Smith

We watched the rest of the movie without talking. When it was over, Bran said, I love you."
I said, " I know." Adam nudged me with his shoulder, and I laughed. "I love you, too. ~ Patricia Briggs

As a preacher, I should be prompted to tell men, not so much how to get their wheat bread cheaper, as of the bread of life compared with which that is bran. Let a man only taste these loaves, and he becomes a skillful economist at once. ~ Henry David Thoreau