Description
A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here. Yet she stepped out all the same... She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams... Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me.
— Sana Stark (A Song of Ice and Fire : A Storm of Swords)