Root Of A Tree, Fruit Of A

He Who Stands Like A Pilar Dies In Battle. He Who Bends Like A Reed Is Triumphant!

Because You Can't Argue With All The Fools In The World. It's Easier To Let Them Have Their Way, Then Trick Them When They're Not Paying Attention.

Anger Is Poison. You Must Purge It From Your Mind Or Else It Will Corrupt Your Better Nature.

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.

The Debate Raged On For So Long, At Last Saphira Had Interrupted With A Roar That Shook The Walls Of The Command Tent. Then She Said, I Am Sore And Tired, And Eragon Is Doing A Poor Job Of Explaining Himself. We Have Better Things To Do Than Stand Around Yammering Like Jackdaws, No? ... Good Now Listen To Me. It Was Reflected Eragon, Hard To Argue With A Dragon.