Bronn: Oh, speaking of builders, all the best brothels burned down. The Master of Coin is willing to fund reconstruction.
Samwell Tarly: Uh... the Archmaester is less than enthusiastic about the salutary effects of brothels.
Bronn: Well, I imagine he isn't using them properly.
Brienne of Tarth: I think we can all agree that ships take precedence over brothels.
Bronn: I think that's a very presumptuous statement.
Tyrion Lannister: I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel...
Samwell Tarly: We represent all the great houses, but whomever we choose, they won't just rule over lords and ladies. Maybe the decision about what's best for everyone should be left to... well, everyone. (Everyone looks confused and then a lot of them starts to laugh...)
Edmure Tully: Maybe we should give the dogs a vote as well.
Yohn Royce: I'll ask my horse.
(Jon hugs Gilly and notices she's pregnant...)
Samwell Tarly: Yes, well, the nights have been getting longer and there wasn't that much to do in Oldtown. There's only so many books a person can read, so we...
Gilly: I'm sure he knows how it happens, Sam. If it's a boy, we want to name him Jon.
Jon Snow: I hope it's a girl.
Bran Stark: He needs to know the truth.
Samwell Tarly: The truth about what?
Bran Stark: About himself. No one knows. No one but me. Jon isn't really my father's son. He's the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and my aunt, Lyanna Stark. He was born in a tower in Dorne. His last name isn't really Snow, it's Sand.
Samwell Tarly: It's not.
Bran Stark: Dornish bastards are named Sand.
Samwell Tarly: At the Citadel, I transcribed a High Septon's diary. He annulled Rhaegar's marriage to Elia. He wed Rhaegar and Lyanna in a secret ceremony.
Samwell Tarly: These maesters... they set me to the task of preserving that man's window counting and annulments and bowel movements for all eternity, while the secret to defeating the Night King's probably sitting on some dusty shelf somewhere, completely ignored. But that's all right, isn't it? We can all become slavering, murderous imbeciles in thrall to evil incarnate as long as we can have access to the full records of High Septon Maynard's 15,782 shits!
Gilly: Steps. That number was the steps.
Randyll Tarly: How'd you come to meet my son?
Gilly: The Night's Watch came to our keep.
Randyll Tarly: Where?
Samwell Tarly: Gilly.
Gilly: North of the Wall.
Randyll Tarly: North of the Wall? You're a wildling. The Seven Kingdoms have waged war against these savages for centuries and here I sit hosting one in my hall! Thanks to my son...
Jon Snow: Sam. You had just been beaten half to death. How did you...
Samwell Tarly: Oh, very carefully.
Jon Snow: I'm glad the end of the world's working out well for someone.
Jon Snow: You know that the Citadel will make you swear off women, too.
Samwell Tarly: Oh, they'll bloody try.
Samwell Tarly: If Gilly stays here, then she'll die. And the baby that she named after me will die. And I'll end up dying, too, trying to protect them. Which means that the last thing that I'll see in this world will be the look in her eyes when I fail them. And I'd rather see a thousand white walkers than see that.