The Fork, the Witch, and the Worm (Tales from Alagaësia, #1)

by Christopher Paolini

Always there will be work, she said, walking over to the desk. The tips of her gleaming claws tapped against the stone. Always there will be those who need something of us, but you have to take care of yourself, little one. You’ve done enough for the day. Put aside your pen and let go of your worries.

No more for today. You are not yourself at the moment. Go.

Sometimes it was easier to fight a battle than to figure out how to deal with the more mundane details of life.

What troubles you, Eragon-finiarel? Still restless, Eragon pursed his lips and looked past the Eldunarí at the semi-transparent crystal filling the windows. Too much work. I can’t get ahead of it, and because of that, I can’t bring myself to do anything else. It’s wearing on me. You must learn to center yourself, said Glaedr. Then these lesser concerns will not bother you. I know….And I know there are many, many things I can’t control. Eragon allowed himself a brief, grim smile. But knowing and doing are two different things. Then another mind joined theirs, that of Umaroth, one of the oldest Eldunarí. Out of reflex, Eragon glanced toward the white heart of hearts that contained the dragon’s consciousness. Umaroth said, What you need is a distraction, that your mind might rest and reset. That I do, said Eragon.

Worrying about the time is exactly what you need curing of. Does the eagle worry about the length of the day? Does the bear or the deer or the fish in the sea? No. So why should you? Chew what you can and leave the rest for tomorrow.

“Because a scar means you survived. It means you’re tough and hard to kill. It means you lived. A scar is something to admire.”

The sight reminded Eragon of the grass ship Murtagh had seen—the same ship Arya had made one night by a fire, when she’d come to help him escape on foot from the Empire. That had also been the night when a group of wilding spirits had emerged from the dark and, during a visitation, transformed a lily into a flower of living gold. Arya had imbued the ship with a spell to draw energy from the plants beneath so that it might always stay aloft and the grass would remain fresh and green forevermore. It gladdened Eragon to know the ship was still out there, sailing around Alagaësia upon waves of wind, and he wondered at everything it had seen in its wanderings. Just another mystery among so many others.

Beware of shadows that walk, human. There are strange forces at work in the world.

Strive for wisdom! Or at least a decrease in idiocy. —Angela of Many Names

All the gold in the world is worthless if you are wandering in an endless desert without a supply of water.

Elva just stared, a wise conversational technique that I recommend in a great many situations.

Just because something was difficult or uncomfortable didn’t mean it wasn’t worth doing.

Happiness, Eragon had decided, was a fleeting, futile thing to pursue. Contentment, on the other hand, was a far more worthwhile goal.