Half way down, he encountered Saphira, who had jammed her head and neck as far up the stair as she could, gouging the wood in her frenzy. Little one. She flicked out her tongue and caught him on the hand with its rough tip. He smiled. Then she arched her neck and tried to pull back, but to no avail. What's wrong? I'm stuck. You're... He could not help it;he laughed even though it hurt. The situation was too absurd.

In my writing, I strive for a lyrical beauty somewhere between Tolkien at his best and Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf.

It is an overactive imagination that turns men into cowards, not a surfeit of fear, as many believe

Fame or infamy, either one is preferable to being forgotten when you have passed from this realm.

HERE LIES BROM Who was A Rider bonded to the dragon Saphira Son of Holcomb and Nelda Beloved of Selena Father of Eragon Shadeslayer Founder of the Varden And Bane of the Forsworn. May his name live on in glory. Stydja unin mo'ranr

I am not who I was,' he whispered, gripping the edges of the column, 'but I know who I am.'... 'And I won't give up.

You shouldn't let him hit you so much" observed saphira "Yes I realize that'" he growled. "Do you want me to knock him over for you?" "No...not today.