When he asked Saphira about it, she said, It matters little to me, Eragon. Dragons have never believed in higher powers. Why should we when deer and other prey consider us to be a higher power? He laughed at that. Only do not ignore reality in order to comfort yourself, for once you do, you make it easy for others to deceive you.
The cycle repeated itself at inconsistent intervals, creating invisible eddies that brushed against him like fountains of roiling water.
If only everyone could see what we have seen, perhaps there would be less fighting in the world. You cannot expect wolves to become sheep. No, but neither do the wolves have to be cruel to the sheep.
Life is both pain and pleasure.
Now, can we please abandon such weighty conversation? I have become thoroughly exhausted with thoughts of fate, destiny, justice, and other, equally gloomy topics over the past few days. As far as I am concerned, philosophic questioning is just as likely to make you confused and depressed as it is to improve your condition.
I will never be like ordinary people. If I must be different, then let me keep that which sets me apart.
You cannot help but be human, yet you do not have to be bound by what those around you believe.
Even gods do not endure forever.
Ugh,” said Eragon, hefting his load.
What are those?” he asked.
We are made imperfect and must guard against our flaws lest they destroy us.
I contain more than my share of years. The memories of hundreds are mine. Life piled upon life: Loves, hates, battles, victories, defeats, lessons learned, mistakes made – all lies within my mind, whispering their wisdom into my ears.
He scrambled to his feet, noticing that her own were bare.
Master.” For several minutes, no one spoke. Eragon tried to guess what the elf was thinking, but could glean no information from his masklike visage. Finally, Oromis stirred. “Were you, perchance, given a trinket of some kind in Tarnag, Eragon?
He had never liked Sloan. The butcher always.
If I am to avoid becoming what I hate, then I have to leave .
Glaedr crouched low to the ground, and Oromis nimbly climbed up his leg and into the saddle on his back. “Come, Eragon and Saphira. We have much to talk about.” The gold dragon leaped off the cliff and circled overhead, rising on an updraft.
The soldiers cringed.
Now she had a weapon.
It occurred to him that perhaps this was how shooting stars were made: a bird or a dragon or some other earthly creature snatched upward by the inexorable wind and thrown skyward with such speed, they flamed like siege arrows. If so, then he guessed he, Saphira, and Glaedr would make the brightest, most spectacular shooting star in living memory, if anyone was close enough to see their demise so far out to sea.