I killed your High Sparrow and all his little sparrows. All his septons, all his septas, all his filthy soldiers, because it felt good to watch them burn
For years I pretended to love the poor, the afflicted. I had pity for them, but I never loved them. They disgusted me
Forgive me. Sometimes the true path is hard to find
Sooner or later, one way or another. The gods have a plan for us all