When I saw Fäolin fall, I understood then that the true agony of war isn't being wounded yourself, it's having to watch those you care about being hurt.

You'll enjoy it. There is much you can learn from books and scrolls," said Jeod. He gestured at the walls. "These books are my friends, my companions. They make me laugh and cry and find meaning in life." "It sounds intriguing," admitted Eragon. "Always the scholar, aren't you?" asked Brom. Jeod shrugged. "Not anymore. I'm afraid I've degenerated into a bibliophile.

The monsters of the mind are far worse than those that actually exist.

How noble. Oh we would fell many...-you with magic and blade, whilst my weapons would be tooth and claw-but it would be futile in the end. They are too numerous.... We cannot defeat them, only be defeated. - Saphira

In El-harím, there lived a man, a man with yellow eyes. To me, he said, "Beware the whispers, for they whisper lies. Do not wrestle with the demons of the dark, Else upon your mind they'll place a mark; Do not listen to the shadows of the deep, Else they haunt you even when you sleep.

It got so that when he closed his eyes, letters and words danced in his mind. He thought of little else during that time.

There are decades in the making of the one man of renown; Multitudes that go unnoticed who must wreathe for him a crown.