My father is Hand of the King. I am not a boy, I am Arya Stark of Winterfell. And if you lay a hand on me my father will have both of your heads on spikes. Now, are you going to let me by, or do I have to smack you on the ear to help you with your hearing?

Syrio: What do we say to the God of death.
Arya: Not today.
Syrio: Go.

Fat boy: You better give me that sword!
Arya: You want it? I'll give it to you. I've already killed one fat boy. I bet you're a liar, but I'm not. I'm good at killing fat boys. I like killing fat boys.

Some day I'm going to put a sword through your eye and out the back of your skull.

The Hound: I'm not a thief.
Arya: You fight with murdering little boys, but thieving is beneath you.
The Hound: Mans got to have a code.

The Hound: Of course you named your sword.
Arya: Lots of people name their swords.
The Hound: Lots of cunts.

Arya: You don't have a map?
Sandor Clegane: No I don't have a map.
Arya: Maybe we should get one.
Sandor Clegane: Aye just point out the next map shop you see and I'll buy you one.

Nothing isn't better or worse than anything. Nothing is just nothing.