“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.”

“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?”

“May your swords stay sharp -Brom”

“Arya.' He looked down the silvery river and then back at Arya, and he gripped the hilt of Brisingr. He was so full of emotion, he trembled. He did not want to leave, but he knew he must. 'Stay with me-'Her gaze darted up. 'I cannot.''...stay with me until the first curve in the river.'She hesitated, then nodded.”

“But the constant motion of the flames soon lulled him into a passive state where unrelated fragments of thoughts, sounds, images, and emotions drifted through him like snowflakes falling from a calm winter's sky.”

“That s the problem I ve been choosing male names. You are a she! [To Saphira, while trying to choose her name.]”

“The name, his true name, was weaker and more flawed than he would have liked, and he hated himself for that, but there was also much to admire within it, and the more he thought about it, the more he was able to accept the true nature of his self. He was not the best person in the world, but neither was he the worst.”