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.

Not anymore. I'm afraid I've degenerated into a bibliophile." "A what?" asked Eragon. "One who loves books," explained Jeod.

Heart broken-he felt a deep ache in his chest, like that of a sore muscle, and each beat of his heart pained him

Characters are born from necessity.

Sword, I name thee Brisingr! And with a sound of rushing wind the blade burst into flame, an envelope of sapphire-blue fire writhing about the razor-sharp steel.

I have to admit, that's a remarkable bruise. You should be proud; it's quite a feat to get injured in the manner you did and in that...particular...place.

Death is part of who we are. It guides us. It shapes us. It drives us to madness. Can you still be human if you have no mortal end