Christopher Paolini

“You have been summoned, Argetlam, to speak before the Council of Elders.”

“Who are they?”

It’s better to be sworn to an honest fool than to a lying scholar

The four elves vanished into the huts, then returned with their arms piled high with fruits and vegetables—but no meat—and began preparing a meal for their guests.

Eragon… She paused. I thought of something while I was under the influence of the elves’ spell, something that I have always considered of little consequence, but now looms within me like a mountain of black dread: Every creature, no matter how pure or monstrous, has a mate of their own kind. Yet I have none. She shuddered and closed her eyes. In this regard, I am alone.

You can’t give up hope. You still have a chance to find a mate, but you have to be patient.

At last Islanzadí cried out and embraced Arya, saying, “O my daughter, I have wronged you!”

a symbol of status and luxury. The more gold you had, the more often you could afford steak and veal. Even the minor nobility ate meat with every meal.

“I live here, on the brink of the Crags of Tel’naeír, because it provides me the opportunity to think and study in peace. My mind works better away from El esméra and the distractions of other people.”

“Everything that we need or want we sing from the plants, including our food. It would be barbaric to make animals suffer that we might have additional courses on the table…. Our choice wil make greater sense to you before long.”

“Our strength with magic grants us as much leisure as we desire. We neither hunt nor farm, and, as a result, we spend our days working to master our interests, whatever they might be. Very little exists that we must strive for.”