Lord Tywin was not pleased. “The gods made you a dwarf. Must you be a fool as well? You were born a lion, not a monkey.”
And you are a corpse, Father, so I’ ll caper as I please.
“Jaime, sweetling, I have known you since you were a babe at Joanna’s breast. You smile like Gerion and fight like Tyg and there’s some of Kevan in you, else you would not wear that cloak…but Tyrion is Tywin’s son, not you. I said so once to your father’s face, and he would not speak to me for half a year.”
A bark of hysterical laughter burst from his lips. “Oh, gods,” he said. "Jaime, I am so sorry, but … gods be good, look at the two of us. Handless and noseless, the Lannister boys."
"There were days when my hand smelled so bad I wished I was noseless." Jaime lowered the torch, so the light bathed his brother’s face. "An impressive scar."
"He had been born in the dead of winter, a terrible cruel one that the maesters said had lasted near three years, but Tyrion’s earliest memories were of spring."