Jaime Lannister Quotes

I crossed a thousand leagues to come to you, and lost the best part of me along the way. Don't tell me to leave.

Her name is Brienne," Jaime said. "Brienne, the maid of Tarth. You are still maiden, I hope?" Her broad homely face turned red. "Yes." "Oh, good," Jaime said. "I only rescue maidens.

Most have been forgotten. Most deserve to be forgotten. The heroes will always be remembered. The best. The best and the worst. And a few who were a bit of both.

Noseless and Handless, the Lannister Boys.

I am alive, and drunk on sunlight.

If there are gods, why is the world so full of pain and injustice?' 'Because of men like you.

How can you still count yourself a knight, when you have forsaken every vow you ever swore?" Jaime reached for the flagon to refill his cup. "So many vows...they make you swear and swear. Defend the king. Obey the king. Keep his secrets. Do his bidding. Your life for his. But obey your father. Love your sister. Protect the innocent. Defend the weak. Respect the gods. Obey the laws. It's too much. No matter what you do, you're forsaking one vow or the other.

It was that white cloak that soiled me, not the other way around.

Jaime smiled knowingly. Men will read all sorts of things into a knowing smile if you let them.

The light was so dim that Jaime could scarcely see her, though they stood a scant few feet apart. 'In this light she could almost be a beauty', he thought. 'In this light she could almost be a knight'.

Jaime had decided that he would return Sansa, and the younger girl as well if she could be found. It was not like to win him back his honor, but the notion of keeping faith when they all expected betrayal amused him more than he could say.

That boy had wanted to be Ser Arthur Dayne, but someplace along the way he had become the Smiling Knight instead.

Why would the stars want to look down on such as me?

How could I not love him, after that? That is not to say that I approved of all he did, or much enjoyed the company of the man that he became... but every little girl needs a big brother to protect her. Tywin was big even when he was little.” She gave a sigh. “Who will protect us now?” Jaime kissed her cheek. “He left a son.” “Aye, he did. That is what I fear the most, in truth.” That was a queer remark. “Why should you fear?” “Jaime,” she said, tugging on his ear, “sweetling, I have known you since you were a babe at Joanna’s breast. You smile like Gerion and fight like Tyg, and there’s some of Kevan in you, else you would not wear that cloak... but Tyrion is Tywin’s son, not you. I said so once to your father’s face, and he would not speak to me for half a year. Men are such thundering great fools. Even the sort who come along once in a thousand years.

Jaime," Brienne whispered, so faintly he thought he was dreaming it. "Jaime, what are you doing?" "Dying," he whispered back. "No," she said, "no, you must live." He wanted to laugh. "Stop telling me what to do, wench. I'll die if it pleases me." "Are you so craven?" The words shocked him. He was Jaime Lannister, a knight of the Kingsguard, he was the Kingslayer. No man had ever called him craven. Other things they called him, yes; oathbreaker, liar, murderer. They said he was cruel, treacherous, reckless. But never craven. "What else can I do, but die?" "Live," she said, "live, and fight, and take revenge." Craven, Jaime thought.... Can it be? They took my sword hand. Was that all I was, a sword hand? Gods be good, is it true? The wench had the right of it. He could not die.

The things I do for love...

He was a Lannister of Casterly Rock, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard; no sellsword would make him scream. Sunlight ran silver along the edge of the arakh as it came shivering down, almost too fast to see. And Jaime screamed.

He pushed away from her and raised his arm, forcing his stump into her face. "A Hand without a hand? A bad jape, sister. Don't ask me to rule.

Ser Gerold Hightower had begun his history, and Ser Barristan Selmy had continued it, but the rest Jaime Lannister would need to write for himself. He could write whatever he chose, henceforth. Whatever he chose ...

That's one way we differ, Jaime and I. He's taller as well, you may have noticed.

I wonder what the High Septon would have to say about the sanctity of oaths sworn while dead drunk, chained to a wall, with a sword pressed to your chest?

Who do you think our champion will be today? Have you seen Mace Tyrell's boy? The Knight of Flowers, they call him. Now there's a son any man would be proud to own to. Last tourney, he dumped the Kingslayer on his golden rump, you ought to have seen the look on Cersei's face. I laughed till my sides hurt.

You ought to be blowing me kisses, wench.

There were other things to tend to first. There were other debts to pay.

Your Grace," he said, when he and Cersei were alone, "I was wondering. Are you drunk, or merely stupid?

If there are gods, why is the world so full of pain and injustice?" "Because of men like you." "There are no men like me. There's only me.

Your brother Jaime keeps losing battles. He gave Sansa an angry look, as if it were her fault. He’s been taken by the Starks and we’ve lost Riverrun and now her stupid brother is calling himself a king. The dwarf smiled crookedly. “All sorts of people are calling themselves kings these days.

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.

Jaime gave her [Brienne] a hard smile. "See, wench? We know each other too well.

She was scarcely a year older than I was, dark-haired, slender, with a face that would break your heart. It certainly broke mine. Lowborn, half-starved, unwashed... Yet lovely. They'd torn the rags she was wearing half off her back, so I wrapped her in my cloak while Jaime chase the men into the woods. By the time he came trotting back, I'd gotten a name out of her, and a story. She was a crofter's child, orphaned when her father died of fever, on her way to... Well, nowhere, really. The girl was too frightened to send her off by herself, though, so I offered to take her to the closest inn and feed her while my brother rode back to the Rock for help. She was hungrier than I would have believed. We finished two whole chickens and part of a third, and drank a flagon of wine, talking. I was only thirteen, and the wine went to my head, I fear. The next thing I knew, I was sharing her bed. If she was shy, I was shyer. I'll never know where I found the courage. When I broke her maidenhead, she wept, but afterward she kissed me and sang her little song, and by morning I was in love.

The thing I do for love.

I seldom fling children off the tops of towers to improve their health. Yes, I meant for him to die.

Jaime: "Bir el kaybettim, bir baba, bir oğul, bir kız kardeş, bir sevgili ve çok yakında bir erkek kardeş kaybedeceğim. Ve bana hâlâ Lannister Hanedanı'nın bu savaşı kazandığını söylüyorlar.

Underneath his steal and wool and boiled leather, Jaime Lannister was a tapestry of cuts and scabs and bruises.

There will be pain." (Qyburn) "I'll scream." (Jaime Lannister) "A great deal of pain." (Qyburn) "I'll scream very loudly." Jaime Lannister)

All knights must bleed, Jaime," Ser Arthur Dayne had said, when he saw. "Blood is the seal of our devotion." With dawn he tapped him on the shoulder; the pale blade was so sharp that even that light touch cut through Jaime's tunic, so he bled anew. He never felt it. A boy knelt; a knight rose. The Young Lion, not the Kingslayer. But that was long ago, and the boy was dead.

Jaime’s golden hand cracked him across the mouth so hard the other knight went stumbling down the steps. His lantern fell and smashed, and the oil spread out, burning. “You are speaking of a highborn lady, ser. Call her by her name. Call her Brienne.

his page still remained to be filled between the gold lion on the crimson shield on top and the blank white shield at the bottom. Ser Gerold Hightower had begun his history, and Ser Barristan Selmy had continued it, but the rest Jaime Lannister would need to write for himself. He could write whatever he chose, henceforth. Whatever he chose . . .

Come on, come on, my sweetling, the music’s still playing. Might I have this dance, my lady?

High, low, overhand, he rained down steel upon her. Left, right, backslash, swinging so hard that sparks flew when the swords came together, upswing, sideslash, overhand, always attacking, moving into her, step and slide, strike and step, step and strike, hacking, slashing, faster, faster, faster . . .until, breathless, he stepped back and let the point of the sword fall to the ground, giving her a moment of respite. “Not half bad,” he acknowledged. “For a wench.

[...] orang-orang sering mengklaim lapar akan kebenaran tapi jarang yang menyukai rasanya ketika disajikan

much. Jaime Lannister murdered the rightful king, after Robert killed his lawful heir on the Trident. Where were the gods then? The gods don’t care about men, no more than kings care about peasants.” “A good king does care.” “Lord Renly … His Grace, he … he would have been the best king, my lady, he was so good, he …” “He is gone, Brienne,” she said, as gently as she could. “Stannis and Joffrey remain … and so does my son.” “He wouldn’t … you’d never make

Jaime knew the look in his sister's eyes. He had seen it before, most recently on the night of Tommen's wedding, when she burned the Tower of the Hand. The green light of the wildfire had bathed the face of the watchers, so they looked like nothing so much as rotting corpses, a pack of gleeful ghouls, but some of the corpses were prettier than others. Even in the baleful glow, Cersei had been beautiful to look upon. She'd stood with one hand on her breast, her lips parted, her green eyes shining. She is crying, Jaime had realized, but whether it was from grief or ecstasy he could not have said.

The world was simpler in those days, Jaime thought, and men as well as swords were made of finer steel. Or was it only that he had been fifteen? They were all in their graves now, the Sword of the Morning and the Smiling Knight, the White Bull and Prince Lewyn, Ser Oswell Whent with his black humor, earnest Jon Darry, Simon Toyne and his Kingswood Brotherhood, bluff old Sumner Crakehall. And me, that boy I was … when did he die, I wonder? When I donned the white cloak? When I opened Aerys’s throat? That boy had wanted to be Ser Arthur Dayne, but someplace along the way he had become the Smiling Knight instead.

Ormai privi di pastoie, i suoi pensieri andarono a Brienne di Tarth. "Stupida, rozza donzella testarda." Si chiese dove fosse in quel momento. "Padre, dalle la forza." Quasi una preghiera, quella dello Sterminatore di Re... Forse era dio che stava invocando, il Padre lassu', la cui effigie istoriata ammiccava al calore delle candele sul lato opposto del tempio? Oppure stava rivolgendosi al cadavere che giaceva davanti a lui? "Ha davvero importanza? Non ascoltano, nessuno dei due ascolta." L'unico vero dio di Jaime Lannister, fin da quando aveva avuto l'eta' per impugnare una spada, era stato il Guerriero. Altri uomini potevano essere padri, figli, mariti, ma nessuno di loro sarebbe mai stato Jaime Lannister, la cui spada era d'oro come i suoi capelli. Lui era un guerriero, e non sarebbe mai stato altro.

Jaime Lannister sends his regards.

Quella notte, sogno'. Era nuovamente nella tenda di Renly. Tutte le candele si stavano spegnendo. Attorno a lei l'aria era fredda. Nelle tenebre verdastre qualcosa si muoveva, qualcosa di osceno e di orribile si avventava contro il suo re. Brienne voleva proteggerlo, ma aveva gli arti rigidi, congelati. Anche solo per sollevare una mano era necessaria una forza enorme. La spada fatta d'ombra squarcio' la gorgiera d'acciaio dipinto di verde, il sangue comincio' a scorrere... Fu allora che Brienne vide: il re non era affatto Renly Baratheon. Era Jaime Lannister. E lei aveva fallito anche con lui.

Ser Gerold Hightower had begun his history, and Ser Barristan Selmy had continued it, but the rest Jaime Lannister would need to write for himself. He could write whatever he chose, henceforth. Whatever he chose …

I know the secret Jon Arryn was murdered to protect. Robert will leave no trueborn son behind him. Joffrey and Tommen are Jaime Lannister’s bastards, (...) .” Littlefinger lifted an eyebrow. “Shocking,” he said in a tone that suggested he was not shocked at all.

If there are gods, why is the world so full of pain and injustice?” “Because of men like you.” “There are no men like me. There's only me.

Other men might be fathers, sons, husbands, but never Jaime Lannister, whose sword was as golden as his hair. He was a warrior, and that was all he would ever be.

Put it in the fire.

The light was so dim that Jaime could scarcely see her, though they stood a scant few feet apart.

I've never lain with any woman but Cersei. In my own way, I have been truer than your Ned ever was. Poor old dead Ned. So who has shit for honor now, I ask you? What was the name of that bastard he fathered?" Catelyn took a step backward. "Brienne." "No that wasn't it.

PETER DINKLAGE (Tyrion Lannister): The Lannisters are all very good at what they do, but it seems that all the cards were dealt to the wrong people. Cersei wants the power but is a woman in a male-dominated world. Jaime is the golden child who wants to avoid all things politic. Tyrion is the brilliant politician who isn’t taken seriously. Cersei and Tyrion have a lot in common, which is why their relationship is so damaged. They see each other very clearly for who they really are. Being born into such wealth and privilege has afforded them all great opportunities—Tyrion, as he has said, “may have been left in the woods to die” if born under different circumstances—but it has clearly affected them at the family dinner table.

Jaime,” she said, tugging on his ear, “sweetling, I have known you since you were a babe at Joanna’s breast. You smile like Gerion and fight like Tyg, and there’s some of Kevan in you, else you would not wear that cloak... but Tyrion is Tywin’s son, not you. I said so once to your father’s face, and he would not speak to me for half a year. Men are such thundering great fools. Even the sort who come along once in a thousand years.

Mantén a tus amigos a tus espaldas y a tus enemigos donde puedas verlos. Jaime Lannister

Can you trust Jaime Lannister?” “He is my wife’s twin, a

He was more interested in the pair that came behind him: the queen’s brothers, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. The Lion and the Imp; there was no mistaking which was which. Ser Jaime Lannister was twin to Queen Cersei; tall and golden, with flashing green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife. He wore crimson silk, high black boots, a black satin cloak. On the breast of his tunic, the lion of his House was embroidered in gold thread, roaring its defiance. They called him the Lion of Lannister to his face and whispered “Kingslayer” behind his back. Jon found it hard to look away from him. This is what a king should look like, he thought to himself as the man passed. Then he saw the other one, waddling along half-hidden by his brother’s side. Tyrion Lannister, the youngest of Lord Tywin’s brood and by far the ugliest. All that the gods had given to Cersei and Jaime, they had denied Tyrion. He was a dwarf, half his brother’s height, struggling to keep pace on stunted legs. His head was too large for his body, with a brute’s squashed-in face beneath a swollen shelf of brow. One green eye and one black one peered out from under a lank fall of hair so blond it seemed white. Jon watched him with fascination.

He was perfectly sincere. Jaime Lannister had never been afraid of death.