Tywin Quotes

...How would you like to die, Tyrion son of Tywin?" "In my own bed, with a belly full of wine and a maiden's mouth around my cock, at the age of eighty," he replied.

A lion doesn't concern itself with the opinion of sheep.

I am Cersei of House Lannister, a lion of the Rock, the rightful queen of these Seven Kingdoms, trueborn daughter of Tywin Lannister. And hair grows back.

Lord Tywin Lannister did not, in the end, shit gold.

Every once in a very long while, Lord Tywin Lannister would actually threaten to smile; he never did, but the threat alone was terrible to behold.

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.

His sister liked to think of herself as Lord Tywin with teats, but she was wrong. Their father had been as relentless and implacable as a glacier, where Cercei was all wildfire, especially when thwarted.

The oft repeated jape about his father was just another lie, Lord Tywin Lannister in the end did not shit gold.

You promised him vengeance as well.' 'I promised him justice.' 'Call it what you will. It still comes down to blood." - Tywin & Tyrion

The city?" Tyrion was lost. "What city would that be?" "King's Landing. I am sending you to court." It was the last thing Tyrion Lannister would ever have anticipated. He reached for his wine, considered for a moment as he sipped. "And what am I to do there?" "Rule," his father said curtly.

A fool more foolish than most had once jested that even Lord Tywin’s shit was flecked with gold. Some said the man was still alive, deep in the bowels of Casterly Rock.

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

There is a long league's worth of difference between willful and stupid. - Tywin Lannister

You smile like Gerion and fight like Tyg, and theree;s some Kevan is 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.

So the wolfling is leaving his den to play among the lions," he said in a voice of quiet satisfaction.

Any man who must say 'I am king' is no true king at all.

This is folly, Tyrion,' declared Lord Tywin. 'Speak to the matter at hand. You are not on trial for being a dwarf. 'That is where you err, my lord. I have been on trial for being a dwarf my entire life.

Tyrion pushed forward. "MY LORDS! " he shouted. He had to shout, to have any hope of being heard. His father raised a hand. Bit by bit, the hall grew silent.

A man like Tywin Lannister comes but only once in a thousand years.

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.

When soldiers lack discipline, the fault lies with their lord commander.

Firelight gleamed golden in the stiff whiskers that framed Lord Tywin’s face. A vein pulsed in his neck, but he did not speak. And did not speak. And did not speak.

I am sorry for your loss.” “I had a new hand made, of gold.” He showed her. “Very nice. Will they make you a gold father too?” Lady Genna’s voice was sharp. “Tywin was the loss I meant.

You were small, but far-famed. We were in Oldtown at your birth, and all the city talked of was the monster that had been born to the King’s Hand, and what such an omen might foretell for the realm.” “Famine, plague, and war, no doubt.” Tyrion gave a sour smile. “It’s always famine, plague, and war. Oh, and winter, and the long night that never ends.” “All that,” said Prince Oberyn, “and your father’s fall as well. Lord Tywin had made himself greater than King Aerys, I heard one begging brother preach, but only a god is meant to stand above a king. You were his curse, a punishment sent by the gods to teach him that he was no better than any other man.” “I try, but he refuses to learn.” Tyrion gave a sigh. “But do go on, I pray you. I love a good tale.” “And well you might, since you were said to have one, a stiff curly tail like a swine’s.

Robert got a pair of twins on a serving wench at Casterly Rock, three years ago when he went west for Lord Tywin’s tourney. Cersei had the babes killed, and sold the mother to a passing slaver.

– Nemes atyám! Micsoda öröm, hogy itt talállak! Lord Tywin nem mozdult a székéből, azonban hosszú, kutató pillantást vetett torzszülött fiára. – Látom, a halálhíredet keltő pletykák megalapozatlanok voltak. – Sajnálom, hogy csalódást okoztam, atyám – mondta Tyrion. – Nem kell felpattanni és megölelni, nem örülnék, ha megerőltetnéd magad.

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.

The Red Keep was full of cats: lazy old cats dozing in the sun, cold-eyed mousers twitching their tails, quick little kittens with claws like needles, ladies’ cats all combed and trusting, ragged shadows prowling the midden heaps. One by one Arya had chased them down and snatched them up and brought them proudly to Syrio Forel … all but this one, this one-eared black devil of a tomcat. “That’s the real king of this castle right there,” one of the gold cloaks had told her. “Older than sin and twice as mean. One time, the king was feasting the queen’s father, and that black bastard hopped up on the table and snatched a roast quail right out of Lord Tywin’s fingers. Robert laughed so hard he like to burst. You stay away from that one, child.” He had run her halfway across the castle; twice around the Tower of the Hand, across the inner bailey, through the stables, down the serpentine steps, past the small kitchen and the pig yard and the barracks of the gold cloaks, along the base of the river wall and up more steps and back and forth over Traitor’s Walk, and then down again and through a gate and around a well and in and out of strange buildings until Arya didn’t know where she was. Now at last she had him. High walls pressed close on either side, and ahead was a blank windowless mass of stone. Quiet as a shadow, she repeated, sliding forward, light as a feather. When she was three steps away from him, the tomcat bolted. Left, then right, he went; and right, then left, went Arya, cutting off his escape. He hissed again and tried to dart between her legs. Quick as a snake, she thought.

Os maiores idiotas são por vezes mais espertos do que os homens que deles se riem

You are done with whores. The next one I find in your bed, I'll hang.” - Tywin Lannister

We’ll shove our swords up Tywin Lannister’s bunghole soon enough,

They said Lord Tywin loved gold most of all; he even shit gold,

Tyrion. “None.” “A pity. Well, the threat may serve to keep the Marcher lords close to their castles, at least. What news of my father?” “If Lord Tywin has won across the Red Fork, no word has reached me yet. If he does not hasten, he may be trapped between his foes. The Oakheart leaf and the Rowan tree have been seen north of the Mander.” “No word from Littlefinger?” “Perhaps he never reached

expected. Lord Tywin did not suffer disloyalty in his vassals. He had extinguished the proud Reynes of Castamere and the ancient Tarbecks of Tarbeck Hall root and branch when he was still half a boy. The singers had even made a rather gloomy song of it.

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.

Tyrion stared up at his father's hard green eyes with their flecks of cold bright gold. "Guilty," he said, "so guilty. Is that what you want to hear?" Lord Tywin said nothing. Mace Tyrell nodded. Prince Oberyn looked mildly disappointed. "You admit you poisoned the king?" "Nothing of the sort," said Tyrion. "Of Joffrey's death I am innocent. I am guilty of a more monstrous crime." He took a step toward his father. "I was born. I lived. I am guilty of being a dwarf, I confess it. And no matter how many times my good father forgave me, I have persisted in my infamy.

Jaime, 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.

I hold no lands, that is true. But I have certain incomes, and chests of coin set aside. My own father forgot none of his children when he died, and Tywin knew how to reward good service. I feed two hundred knights and can double that number if need be. There are freeriders who will follow my banner, and I have the gold to hire sellswords.

The dung made him think of his lord father.

Jaime," ela disse, puxando-lhe a orelha "querido, eu o conheço desde que era um bebê no colo de Joanna. Sorri como Gerion e luta como Tyg, e há um pouco de Kevan em você, caso contrário não usaria esse manto... Mas o filho de Tywin é Tyrion, não você. Certa vez, eu disse isso na cara de seu pai, e ele não falou comigo durante meio ano. Os homens são uns tremendos idiotas. Até aqueles que aparecem uma vez a cada mil anos.

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.” CAT OF THE CANALS She

Hear me out. Stannis is no friend of yours, nor of mine. Even his brothers can scarcely stomach him. The man is iron, hard and unyielding. He’ll give us a new Hand and a new council, for a certainty. No doubt he’ll thank you for handing him the crown, but he won’t love you for it. And his ascent will mean war. Stannis cannot rest easy on the throne until Cersei and her bastards are dead. Do you think Lord Tywin will sit idly while his daughter’s head is measured for a spike? Casterly Rock will rise, and not alone. Robert found it in him to pardon men who served King Aerys, so long as they did him fealty. Stannis is less forgiving. He will not have forgotten the siege of Storm’s End, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dare not. Every man who fought beneath the dragon banner or rose with Balon Greyjoy will have good cause to fear. Seat Stannis on the Iron Throne and I promise you, the realm will bleed. “Now look at the other side of the coin. Joffrey is but twelve, and Robert gave you the regency, my lord. You are the Hand of the King and Protector of the Realm. The power is yours, Lord Stark. All you need do is reach out and take it. Make your peace with the Lannisters. Release the Imp. Wed Joffrey to your Sansa. Wed your younger girl to Prince Tommen, and your heir to Myrcella. It will be four years before Joffrey comes of age. By then he will look to you as a second father, and if not, well … four years is a good long while, my lord. Long enough to dispose of Lord Stannis. Then, should Joffrey prove troublesome, we can reveal his little secret and put Lord Renly on the throne.

I owe you nothing.” “You’ve given me less than that, all my life, but you’ll give me this. What did you do with Tysha?” “Tysha?” He does not even remember her name. “The girl I married.” “Oh, yes. Your first whore.” Tyrion took aim at his father’s chest. “The next time you say that word, I’ll kill you.” “You do not have the courage.” “Shall we find out? It’s a short word, and it seems to come so easily to your lips.” Tyrion gestured impatiently with the bow. “Tysha. What did you do with her, after my little lesson?” “I don’t recall.” “Try harder. Did you have her killed?” His father pursed his lips. “There was no reason for that, she’d learned her place… and had been well paid for her day’s work, I seem to recall. I suppose the steward sent her on her way. I never thought to inquire.” “On her way where?” “Wherever whores go.” Tyrion’s finger clenched. The crossbow whanged just as Lord Tywin started to rise. The bolt slammed into him above the groin and he sat back down with a grunt. The quarrel had sunk deep, right to the fletching. Blood seeped out around the shaft, dripping down into his pubic hair and over his bare thighs. “You shot me,” he said incredulously, his eyes glassy with shock. “You always were quick to grasp a situation, my lord,” Tyrion said. “That must be why you’re the Hand of the King.” “You… you are no… no son of mine.” “Now that’s where you’re wrong, Father. Why, I believe I’m you writ small. Do me a kindness now, and die quickly. I have a ship to catch.” For once, his father did what Tyrion asked him. The proof was the sudden stench, as his bowels loosened in the moment of death. Well, he was in the right place for it, Tyrion thought. But the stink that filled the privy gave ample evidence that the oft-repeated jape about his father was just another lie. Lord Tywin Lannister did not, in the end, shit gold.

«Il tuo argento è nostro. I vostri cavalli sono nostri. La tua cotta di maglia di ferro e la tua ascia e il coltello che hai alla cintura, tutto nostro. Non avete niente da darci al di fuori delle vostre vite. Dimmi, Tyrion figlio di Tywin, come vuoi morire?» «Nel mio letto, a ottant'anni, con la pancia piena di vino e le labbra di una fanciulla attorno al cazzo» ribatté Tyrion.

thought they were being dragged here to name Lord Tywin a red-handed butcher before a

A Lannister always pays his debts

How would you like to die, Tyrion son of Tywin?” “In my own bed, with a belly full of wine and a maiden’s mouth around my cock, at the age of eighty,” he replied.

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.

She blamed Pycelle; he should have told the silent sisters that Lord Tywin Lannister never smiled. The man is as useless as nipples on a breastplate.

In the end, Tywin Lannister did not, in fact, shit gold.

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.

When House Reyne of Castamere, a sworn vassal of the Lannisters, dared to rise up against Tytos, it was his eldest son, Tywin, who crushed the rebellion. Tywin led his troops in a merciless assault of Castamere and eradicated House Reyne. His victory was immortalized in the ballad “The Rains of Castamere,” which has become an anthem of House Lannister.

The smoke was stinging his eyes. Tyrion cleared his throat and turned away from the fire, to gaze out into darkness. "Lord Tywin had me go last," he said in a quiet voice.

Any man who must say,"I am the king" is no true king.

–Jaime –dijo mientras le pellizcaba la oreja–, cariño, te conozco desde que eras un bebé que mamaba del pecho de Joanna. Sonríes como Gerion y peleas como Tyg, y hasta tienes algo de Kevan; de lo contrario no llevarías esa capa... Pero el verdadero hijo de Tywin es Tyrion, no tú. *Lady Genna.

Algunas batallas se ganan con espadas y lanzas; otras, con plumas y cuervos. Tywin Lannister

Una buena amenaza a veces dice más que un golpe. Tywin Lannister

Yet last night he had dreamt of Rhaegar’s children. Lord Tywin had laid the bodies beneath the Iron Throne, wrapped in the crimson cloaks of his house guard. That was clever of him; the blood did not show so badly against the red cloth. The little princess had been barefoot, still dressed in her bed gown, and the boy … the boy … Ned could not let that happen again. The realm could not withstand a second mad king, another dance of blood and vengeance. He must find some way to save the children.

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.

Any man that must say "I am the king" is no true king

Any man who must say "I am the king" is no true king.

- ¿Cómo quieres morir, Tyrion, hijo de Tywin? - En mi propia cama, con la barriga llena de vino y la polla en la boca de una doncella, y a la edad de ochenta años.

Jaime, querido, eu o conheço desde que era um bebê no colo de Joanna. Sorri como Gerion e luta como Tyg e há um pouco de Kevan em você, caso contrário não usaria esse manto... Mas o filho de Tywin é Tyrion, não você.

Probabilmente, non ti avremmo mai visto se non fosse stato per la tua dolce sorella" riprese il dorniano. "Non venivi mai portato al desco, ne' nella sale. Ma di notte, a volte, udivamo le grida di un neonato provenire dalle profondita' della rocca. Avevi una voce mostruosamente forte, questo te lo riconosco. Continuavi a urlare per ore, e nulla poteva acquietarti eccetto la tetta di una donna." [...] "Cersei arrivo' addiruttura a sciogliere i nodi dei tuoi pannolini per consentirci di vedere bene" continuo' il principe di Dorne. "In effetti, avevi un occhio malefico e la peluria nera sul capo. Forse la tua testa era piu' grande del normale... ma non c'era nessuna coda, nessuna barba, niente artigli ne' zanne, e niente tra le tue gambe tranne un piccolo cazzo rosa. Dopo tutti quei meravigliosi bisbigli, il Flagello di lord Tywin si era rivelato nient'altro che un orribile neonato, rosso e con le gambe leggermente tozze. Elia emise il tipico suono che le ragazze emettono di fronte a un infante, sono certo che sai di che cosa sto parlando. Quel verso che fanno anche davanti ai cuccioli di cane e ai gattini appena nati. Credo lei stessa, a dispetto della tua bruttezza, sia stata tentata di allattarti. Al mio commento che come creatura mostruosa tutto sommato valevi poco, tua sorella disse: 'Ha ucciso mia madre', dopo di che afferro' quel tuo piccolo cazzo e lo torse talmente forte da farmi temere che te lo avrebbe strappato via. Tu urlasti, ma Cersei abbandono' la presa solo dopo che tuo fratello Jaime disse: 'Lascialo stare, gli stai facendo male'. 'Tanto non importa" ci disse "lo sanno tutti che morira' presto. Non avrebbe neppure dovuto vivere cosi' a lungo.

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 in 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.

Tywin: "My stomach remains quite strong, however. The only thing that might turn it are details of your grandson's nocturnal activities. Do you deny them?" Olenna: "No, not at all! A sword swallower through and through.

Game of Thrones is not history, and as historian Dan Jones put it: “It is alt-history, not a reconstruction of a known past. It is historically literate without ever claiming to be history.”1 And yet there are some clear and obvious historical parallels, and one that George R.R. Martin has spoken of is between Tywin Lannister and King Edward I. Like Tywin Lannister, Edward “Longshanks” was the ultimate medieval warlord,

Prince Aerys … as a youth, he was taken with a certain lady of Casterly Rock, a cousin of Tywin Lannister. When she and Tywin wed, your father drank too much wine at the wedding feast and was heard to say that it was a great pity that the lord’s right to the first night had been abolished. A drunken jape, no more, but Tywin Lannister was not a man to forget such words, or the … the liberties your father took during the bedding.

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.