The debate raged on for so long, at last Saphira had interrupted with a roar that shook the walls of the command tent. Then she said, I am sore and tired, and Eragon is doing a poor job of explaining himself. We have better things to do than stand around yammering like jackdaws, no? ... Good now listen to me. It was reflected Eragon, hard to argue with a dragon.

It is better to ask for an apology than to ask for permission.

Anger is poison. You must purge it from your mind or else it will corrupt your better nature.

You named your sword Fire? Fire? What kind of a boring name is that? You might as well name your sword 'Blazing Blade' and be done with it. Fire indeed. Humph. Wouldn't you rather have a sword called Sheepbiter or Chrysanthemum Cleaver or something else with imagination?

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.

Are not all religions strange to those who stand outside of them?

When you teach them-teach them not to fear. Fear is good in small amounts, but when it is a constant, pounding companion, it cuts away at who you are and makes it hard to do what you know is right.