And what of my wrath, Lord Stark?

I warn you, if you bore me, I shall take my revenge.

Write hard and clear about what hurts.

My lord Apollo, single out the guilty ones,
and in your customary way, destroy them all.

Sorrow with me, Sorrowful one!
Tell me, whose voice proclaims
Things true and sad,
Naming by all their old, unhappy names,
What drove me mad —

I want to burden the conscience of the affluent with all the suffering and all the hidden, bitter tears.

I address the trophy and the warped reflection: All the pain and suffering you've caused me.

You've injured me, Farshooter, most deadly of the gods;
And I'd punish you, if I had the power.

Those things that hurt, instruct.

Those things that hurt, instruct.

Devil, do you dare approach me? and do you not fear the fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head?

There is no satisfaction in vengeance unless the offender has time to realize who it is that strikes him, and why retribution has come upon him.

Vengeance is mine, I will repay

A rapid bolt will rend the clouds apart,
and every single White be seared by wounds.
I tell you this. I want it all to hurt.