Her Sculptured Face Was As Perfect As

Engaged In A Fiery Dance, Their Bodies Were Linked And Seperated By The Flashing Blades. At Times They Nearly Touched, Taut Skin Only A Hair's Breadth Away, But Then Momentum Would Whirl Them Apart, And They Would Withdraw For A Second, Only To Join Again. Their Sinuous Forms Wove Together Like Twisting Ropes Of Windblown Smoke.

All Great Fighting Is The Same, Eragon, Even As All Great Warriors Are The Same. Past A Certain Point, It Does Not Matter Whether You Wield A Sword, A Claw, A Tooth Or A Tail. It Is True, You Must Be Capable With Your Weapon, But Anyone With The Time, And The Inclination Can Acquire Technical Proficiency. To Achieve Greatness, Though, That Requires Artistry. That Requires Imagination And Thoughtfulness, And It Is Those Qualities That The Best Warriors Share, Even If, On The Surface, They Appear Completely Different.

The Sands Of Time Cannot Be Stopped. Years Pass Whether We Will Them Or Not... But We Can Remember. What Has Been Lost May Yet Live In Memories.

In El-harím, There Lived A Man, A Man With Yellow Eyes. To Me, He Said, "beware The Whispers, For They Whisper Lies. Do Not Wrestle With The Demons Of The Dark, Else Upon Your Mind They'll Place A Mark; Do Not Listen To The Shadows Of The Deep, Else They Haunt You Even When You Sleep.

Why?' - Nasuada 'you Know Why' - Murtagh