The songs of the dead are the lamentations of the living. - Christopher Paolini

books should go where they will be most appreciated, not sit unread, gathering dust on a foreign shelf, don't you agree?

What have you done?' he said, his voice hollow and strained. He stepped back and put his fists to his temples. 'What have you done!'
With an effort, Eragon said, 'Made you understand.

Arya.' He looked down the silvery river and then back at Arya, and he gripped the hilt of Brisingr. He was so full of emotion, he trembled. He did not want to leave, but he knew he must. 'Stay with me-'
Her gaze darted up. 'I cannot.'
'...stay with me until the first curve in the river.'
She hesitated, then nodded.