"Oh, my sweet summer child," Old Nan said quietly, "what do you know of fear? Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides its face for years at a time, and little children are born and live and die all in darkness while the direwolves grow gaunt and hungry, and the white walkers move through the woods."
When my absence doesn’t alter your life, then my presence has no meaning in it
"can i see your glasses?"
*snatches them from you and smudges lenses while trying them on*
"wow, you really are blind!"