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jon looked up at the wall shining in the sun, the melting ice creeping down its side in a hundred thin fingers. jon’s rage was such that he would have smashed it all in an instant, and the world be damned.
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“gods, wolf, where have you been?”
[...]
“i thought you’d died on me, like robb and ygritte and all the rest. i've had no sense of you, not since i climbed the wall, not even in dreams.”
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“your wall is a queer place, but there is power here, if you will use it. power in you, and in this beast. you resist it, and that is your mistake. embrace it. use it.”
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"corn," the bird said, and, "king," and, "snow, jon snow, jon snow." that was queer. the bird had never said his full name before, as best jon could recall.
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he had seen a winter once, when he was very young, but everyone agreed that it had been a short one, and mild. this one would be different. he could feel it in his bones.
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jon snow’s journey throughout a song of ice and fire
from a bastard boy to the 998th lord commander of the night’s watch.
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she yearned to see her mother again, and robb and bran and rickon… but it was jon snow she thought of most. she wished somehow they could come to the wall before winterfell, so jon might muss up her hair and call her “little sister.”
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ghost, shaggydog, jon and rickon reunion
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"your heart is noble, jon but learn a lesson here. we cannot set the world to rights. that is not our purpose. the night's watch has other wars to fight."
other wars. yes, i must remember.
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