[Daemon tries to persuade Rhaena to leave Sheepstealer]
Daemon: He's not like the others, Rhaena. He is wild; he cannot be trusted.
Rhaena: He is mine! He is a part of me. I have been alone all my life; a Targaryen without a dragon. Disregarded, or-or worse, pitied. Can you yourself say you ever gave me more than a passing thought? Rhaena, the unfortunate; Rhaena, the least among your children.
Daemon: Come back with me, then, to King's Landing.
Rhaena: No.
Daemon: We will... speak to her, together. We will tell her it was a mistake!
Rhaena: How can I ever stand before her again, after what I have done? No, I can never return. I will remain here, alone and in exile. That is my penance.
Daemon: She will hunt you down. Is hunting, now!
Rhaena: Let them grieve me and think me lost to sea. Unless you betray me.
Daemon: You ask me to deceive her? That is betrayal.
Rhaena: I have asked you nothing, Father, in all my life. I ask this one thing of you now.
Ser Criston: We have endured much. Suffered much. This I know. And though we languish now… in the darkness… we will not lose heart. The Seven watch over us even now. Let the Maiden grant us vision. For the way ahead is blessed. Let the Warrior lend us his sword that we do not falter in our resolve. And the Smith… Let the Smith bless us with his strength. The Crone lights our way. Ours is the path of righteousness. The Mother gives her comfort. The Father, his protection. And the Stranger… The Stranger offers us rest.
Larys: [to Aegon II] I must say, Your Grace, all this time we've been together, from the moment you were injured, flying drunk into a battle to which you were not invited, you've done nothing but whinge and self-flagellate with a tenacity I find astonishing. You, who had every advantage in life, you who had every chance to shine, first-born son, prince of the realm, the finest tutors, the finest knights instructing you in the sword, a dragon so beautiful they named him after the sun itself. You could have risen to greatness, but instead you trampled your birthright in the mud. You lazed, revelling in mediocrity, fucking anything in sight and drinking yourself into oblivion with your sycophantic friends. I will tell you the truth: you were a terrible king, but worse than that — you are a terrible man.
Daemon: I'll hear no more from those whose greatest battle has been with their own indigestion.
[Ser Criston and his men are trapped by a numerically superior Black army commanded by Lords Oscar Tully and Roderick Dustin]
Oscar: Criston Cole! Traitor, usurper and defiler of justice! Come forth and to hear your fate!
Ser Criston: If I strike my banners, will you spare my men their lives? [Roderick chuckles]
Oscar: I made a promise to the dead, Cole. I told them I'd build a sept out of traitors' bones. I don't have near enough bones yet!
Ser Criston: If there is to be battle here, many of you will die as well.
Roderick: That's why we've come! What better way to die than blade in hand?!
Ser Criston: As you will it. [He ties Alicent's handkerchief around his sword's hilt] Let us begin here then, one of me against the two of you. Will that be enough to make a fight of it? [An arrow loosed by Alysanne Blackwood strikes Criston in the stomach. She looses two more shafts, fatally wounding him]
Ormund: I have had word since we last spoke of a most distressing incident. My whisperers tell me that Daemon Targaryen struck you. In the street. In front of all the commoners passing by. An intolerable insult to someone of your stature. But then, it's almost to be expected from those people.
Ulf: She did tell me not to go into town. To be fair.
Ormund: Ludicrous. A man needs his sustenance and cheer. But it is obvious Rhaenyra and her ilk regard you only as a tool. To be used and reprimanded. Whereas I understand who you really are.
Ulf: You said last time that you could give me a lordship. And a castle. Honeyholt.
Ormund: Honeyholt? Honeyholt is a trifle. It seems that Driftmark itself may soon be without a master. Lord of the Tides. What do you think of that? They will laugh at you no more when they see you as you are.
Ulf: No. They will burn.
Aemond: Why do you care whether I am alone? Whether I live or die? I'm a kinslayer, Alys. My own brother is dead by my hand. I have been damned for my trespasses and cursed to suffer. You should abandon me. Lest you bring mine own fate upon yourself.
Alys: When the dragon Balerion burned this place, it was to end Lord Harren's line. But his line was not so easily ended. A child, a boy, lived on. Burned terribly, but alive. His mother would have given anything to save him. She summoned maesters from across the Seven Kingdoms, but to no avail. So, she turned to older cures. She uncovered incantations more ancient than the land. She treated with things that lived in the forest. But none of it could unmake what dragonfire made. And when the boy was gone, she tried to go with him. And that is when she learned the cost. She discovered then she was cursed to live on, to remain within the bounds of the river kings of old. Cursed for sharing in Harren's avarice. Stripped of her name, her title, her castle. And sentenced to serve every ha'penny lord who came here to rule it.
Aemond: That was a hundred years past.
Alys: It's a long time to be alone.
Corlys: Two paths diverge before you, Daemon, but both lead to the same end: Rhaenyra sitting the Iron Throne, ruling the Seven Kingdoms. All that remains for you to decide is what you want from this war. Victory, or a mountain of dead Hightowers?
Daemon: What do you think?
Gwayne: You would callously cast away the lives of thou...[Daemons seizes him by the throat]
Daemon: No one will rule but Rhaenyra, the ordained Queen of the Andals, of the First Men, of beggars and thieves and cowards like you! A new Valyria will rise from the ashes of her usurper half-brothers and of the Hightowers of Oldtown! [Daemon forces a choking Gwayne to his knees] Now, you came to me under a banner of peace, so I will give you the choice. Die here, or behind those walls, like the rodent you are! [Daemon tosses Gwayne aside] Lord Corlys is my prisoner. Hightower may return to alert his cousin to our imminent coming. Bring up the ladders and the rams and prepare to march. The next man to stall on this attack will be tied to the front of my fucking horse!
[Rhaenyra forces her way into the Grand Sept in King's Landing with her son Joffrey and an armed escort]
High Septon: This is the house of the Seven! No arms are to cross its threshold!
Rhaenyra: The people of King’s Landing gather, seeking to know who is ordained to lead them. You will give them their answer by anointing me for all to see.
High Septon: I have already told you that such is impossible. And now, after Aegon and his dragon have been resurrected, there could be no clearer sign of whom the gods have chosen to rule, Princess.
Rhaenyra: [angered] I am Queen. The old man forgets, I wear my father’s crown and sit his throne… with six dragons at my heel. You will not deny me my right a second time.
High Septon: You may have six dragons, but I have a Seven-faced god. I could not possibly oppose their will.
Rhaenyra: [coldly] Then you name yourself a traitor. [The High Septon looks shocked. Rhaenyra steps back and Alyn advances, hand on his sword hilt]
High Septon: I am the High Septon of the Faith! To harm me is to declare war upon the Starry Sept, to damn your soul to the deepest of the Seven Hells! [Rhaenyra walks over to Alyn]
Rhaenyra: You are the blood of Old Valyria. You answer to higher gods than his. To them, this house is an empty work of brick and stone.
All right, if she puts the bags down before she greets you, that's a good sign.
You know, anything in the, in the lip area is good.
You know, a hug: definitely good.
Although what if it's one of those hugs where the shoulders are touching, the hips are eight feet apart?
That's so brutal, I hate that.
You know how they do that?
That's why, you know, a shake is bad.
Shake is bad, but what if it's the two-hander? The hand on the bottom, the hand on the top, the warm look in the eyes?
I see. Well, that's open to interpretation. Because so much depends on the layering and the quality of the wetness in the eyes...
Men are not subtle — men are obvious. Women know what men want. Men know what men want. What do we want? We want women! It's the only thing we know for sure: we want women! How do we get women? Oh, we don't know that. The next step after that we have no idea. This is why you see men honking car-horns, yelling from construction sites. These are the best ideas we've had so far. The car-horn honk, is that a beauty? Have you seen men doing this? What is this? The man is in the car, the woman walks by the front of the car, he honks. E-eeehh, eehhh, eehhh! This man is out of ideas. How does it…? E-e-e-eeeehhhh! "I don't think she likes me." The amazing thing is, that we still get women, don't we? Men, I mean, men are with women. You see men with women. How are men getting women, many people wonder. Let me tell you a little bit about our organization. Wherever women are, we have a man working on the situation right now. Now, he may not be our best man, okay, we have a lot of areas to cover, but someone from our staff is on the scene. That's why, I think, men get frustrated, when we see women reading articles, like "Where to meet men?" We're here, we are everywhere. We're honking our horns to serve you better.
There's something about a check that, to a man, is not masculine. I don't know exactly what it is... I think to a man, a check is like a note from your mother that says "I don't have any money, but if you'll contact these people, I'm sure they'll stick up for me... If you just trust me this one time I don't have any money but I have these... I wrote on these; is this of any value at all?"
[while playing Scrabble] "Quone"?
"Quone"? No, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to challenge that.
[Jerry picks up the dictionary]
No, you don't have to challenge that. That's a word. That's a definite word.
Quone. To quone something.
[Jerry looks up the word]
I'm not playing with you anymore.
[showing the dictionary] No good. Sorry. There it is. Get it off.
[to Kramer] Why did you make me put that down?
Nah, we need a medical dictionary! If a patient gets difficult, you quone him.
[Realizing that the robbery was his fault] Look, Jerry, I'm sorry, I'm uh, you have insurance, right buddy?
[Staggers in shock] How can you not have insurance?
Because...I spent my money on the Clapgo D. 29, it's the most impenetrable lock on the market today... it has only one design flaw: the door... [closing door] MUST BE CLOSED!!
Jerry! I'm gonna find your stuff. I'm gonna solve it, I'm on the case, buddy, I'm on the case!
Yeah, don't investigate, don't pay me back, it was an accident.
I got ripped off for about the...18th time? And now, the first couple a times you go through it, it's very upsetting and your first reaction or one of your friends will say: "Call the police. You really should call the police." So you think to yourself, ya know, you watch TV, you think: "Yeah, I'm calling the police. Stakeouts, manhunts...I'm gonna see some real action." Right, you think that. So, the police come over to your house...they fill out: the report...they give you: your copy. Now...unless they give the crook his copy, I don't really think we're gonna crack this case, do you?...It's not like Batman, where there's three crooks in the city and everybody pretty much knows, who they are. Very few crooks even go to the trouble to come up with a theme for their careers anymore. It makes them a lot tougher to spot. "Did you lose a Sony? It could be the Penguin...I think we can round him up, he's dressed like a PENGUIN! We can find him, he's a PENGUIN!
