It Is Foolish To Conjure Up Woe

From The Corner Of His Eye, Eragon Saw Orik Hewing Urgal Necks With Mighty Blows Of His Ax.

Saphira Waved Her Tail, The Tip Whistling Loudly. "i'm Not Asking You To. However, If We Attack First, We May Gain The Advantage." "have You Gone Crazy? They'll..." Eragon's Voice Trailed Off As He Thought About It. "they Won't Be Able To Do A Thing." "exactly," Said Saphira. "we Can Inflict Lots Of Damage From A Safe Height." "let's Drop Rocks On Them!

If A Dragon Has Already Transferred Their Consciousness To Their Heart Of Hearts, Then They Will Die A True Death.

Treat All Fairly Or They Will Seek Revenge.

I Have A New Name For Pain. What's That? The Obliterator. Because When You're In Pain, Nothing Else Can Exist. Not Thought. Not Emotion. Only The Drive To Escape The Pain. When It's Strong Enough, The Obliterator Strips Us Of Everything That Makes Us Who We Are, Until We're Reduced To Creatures Less Than Animals, Creatures With A Single Desire And Goal: Escape. A Good Name, Then.