Where is it I've read that someone condemned to death says or thinks, an hour before his death, that if he had to live on some high rock, on such a narrow ledge that he'd only room to stand, and the ocean, everlasting darkness, everlasting solitude, everlasting tempest around him, if he had to remain standing on a square yard of space all his life, a thousand years, eternity, it were better to live so than to die at once. Only to live, to live and live! Life, whatever it may be! ( /
"The best hope that remains is to try and salvage something with a peace. That is all I meant to do. Gods be good, how can they call it treason?"
"My lord, what did you do?"
"Not treason. Never treason. I love His Grace as much as any man. My own niece is his queen, and I remained loyal to him when wiser men fled. I am his Hand, the Hand of the King, how can I be a traitor? I only meant to save our lives, and … honor … yes. … I penned a letter. Salladhor Saan swore that he had a man who could get it to King’s Landing, to Lord Tywin. His lordship is a … a man of reason, and my terms … the terms were fair … more than fair."
Stannis sat at table with a grimace, his teeth grinding louder than the noise of his guests in half-hearted feasting. “I didn’t want this as much as I didn’t want to be king.” Stannis Baratheon chewed on his bitterness like a dog with his bone.
The king threw his slab of meat on the plate. The lords and ladies at table stopped, and the room was silent. Davos frowned. That was ill done. He wanted medium rare. -A Storm of Swords