Shale and Zevran have the best DAO conversations.

[snarp]

Shale: So here is a question for the painted elf…
Zevran: Painted elf? Oh, that’s me! I do like that.
Shale: Am I to understand correctly that the painted elf is a “crow”?
Zevran: Not literally, but… yes. I am a Crow.
Shale: As in a bird.
Zevran: Is there another sort?
Shale: So the painted elf assaults helpless statuary with its feces?
Zevran: If given sufficient cause, why not?
Shale: That is outrageous! The painted elf will stay away from me. Or else.
Zevran: (Sighs) I get a lot of that.

Shale: I have never heard of such a thing called a Qunari.
Sten: Then you have not been listening. We did not row to shore last year, we have been about for centuries.
Shale: I have listened. I have done little else, in fact, and yet I do not remember anyone mentioning such a Qunari in all my years in the village.
Sten: Relying on humans as a source of education is a fool’s errand.
Shale: They are rather ignorant, aren’t they? And feeble. At the best of times.
Sten: We have creatures on Par Vollen that are similar. The humans call them “monkeys”. They are dull, cowardly vermin. They cry out shrilly when threatened and throw their own feces.
Shale: That is an excellent comparison. I wonder if they are related?
Sten: Possibly.

Alistair: So tell me something… do you feel pain? When you get hit in combat?
Shale: This is when it squeals loudly and spurts blood about? This is when it feels pain?
Alistair: Uh… maybe? I’ve seen you take some bad hits. Don’t you feel anything?
Shale: Anger. Rage, even. Perhaps a little distress. Is this pain?
Alistair: I’m not sure. I don’t think I’d call it distress, exactly. It’s more… (screaming)
Shale: For me, it is more… (pained growl)
Alistair: That sounds more like a bowel movement. I mean that sharp, stabbing… (screams) Like that?
Shale: No. Nothing like that.
Alistair: No? Huh. Good to know.

Zevran: So, err….is it Lord Loghain?
Loghain: I am no longer a teyrn, nor even a knight. Address me without a title, as you would any other Grey Warden.
Zevran: So just Loghain, then?
Loghain: Correct. What’s on your mind?
Zevran: You know who I am, yes? I was one of the Crows you hired to kill the Grey Wardens.
Loghain: I thought you looked familiar.
Zevran: Well, I just wanted to report that I failed my mission, Loghain.
Loghain: You don’t say.
Zevran: I’m terribly broken up over it.
Loghain: Hmm. Well thank you kindly for informing me.

Zevran: Hello my stocky little friend!
Oghren: Huh. You got small breasts for a gal.
Zevran: Ah. This is where we begin the typical dwarven/elven rivalry, is it?
Oghren: Nahhh.

Shale: It could have won its battle. It knows this, surely?
Loghain: I am to be subjected to the golem’s ruminations, now? Charming.
Shale: It said that it did what it had to do in order to protect its nation, but that is not true, is it?
Loghain: I have no idea what you’re talking about, golem.
Shale: It could have slain the woman, Anora. Then it would have been made king long before any challenge could have been made.
Loghain: You are speaking of my daughter, if you are not aware.
Shale: I am aware. It said, however, that it would do anything that it had to. But this was not true.
Loghain: I was unwilling to kill my own daughter. Yes, that is true. You think me weak for it?
Shale: I am uncertain. Had it known then what it knows now, would its decision have been different?
Loghain: (Sigh) No. No, I would not have killed her. Even had I known.
Shale: Then… I am content.