I love telling stories and I love writing so the fact that I can do it professionally is something that I've always been very grateful for.

Eragon cried out, and in his desperation he reached for Saphira and the Eldunarí... and without meaning to, he drew from their stories of energy. And with that energy he cast a spell. It was a spell without words... His was a spell of instinct and emotion; language could not contain it.

Don't defoul the air. It ill becomes you. - Oromis

Atra esterni' ono thelduin Mor' rana li'fa unin hjarta onr Un du evari'nya ono varda (May good fortune rule over you peace live in your heart may the stars watch over you)

She lowered her head until it was at his level. He stroked the line of her jaw, and then pressed his forehead against her hard snout and held her as tightly as he could, her scales sharp against his fingers. Hot tears began to slide down his cheeks. 'Why do you cry?' she asked. 'Because... I'm lucky enough to be bonded with you.' 'Little one.

Eragon. Is that all you say? Yes.

If I spent my time worrying about what other people would think of my work, I would be too self-conscious to write.