When dragons attack, the only thing you should seek to stand behind is your own sword.

Dragons are a manifestation of things we fear. More often than not, those fears prove to be just as daunting and just as imaginary.

A dragon grows in leaps and bounds,
Like troubles mounting by the pound.

Its stature heightens day to day,
Imposing dread and deep dismay.

A paralyzing roar it gains
While from its snout hot fire rains.

It sees you shrink. Your fear it knows.
And by the hour the nightmare grows.

Unless you slay the dragon soon,
Your troubles may become your doom.

What if dragons breathed bubbles
and purred when they cuddled
and giggled at chivalrous knights for their troubles?

What if dragons felt soft,
having scales made of cloth,
and they moved rather slow like a brown-throated sloth?

What if dragons were shy
and did easily cry
when confronted by characters callous and sly?

What if dragons did good
but were misunderstood
so men mercilessly slew the beasts right where they stood?

What if dragons aren’t missed
because there is no list
of extinct types of quarry that now don’t exist?

Never judge another knight without first knowing the strength and cunning of the dragons he fights.

Courage isn’t being a dragon. Neither is it behaving like a dragon. Nor is it taking up arms to fight and defeat dragons. Courage is being a lamb standing with poise among dragons.