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How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand, there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep...that have taken hold.

J. R. R. Tolkien

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J. R. R. Tolkien
Age: 81 †
Born: 1892
Born: January 3
Died: 1973
Died: September 2
Author
Essayist
Historian
Illustrator
Linguist
Literary Critic
Military Officer
Poet
Teacher
Translator
John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
John R. R. Tolkien
J-R-R Tolkien
Tolkien
J.R.R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
Going
Deep
Things
Hold
Threads
Time
Hurt
Mend
Life
Taken
Hurts
Understand
Thread
Cannot
Pick
Back
Picks
Heart
Begin

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If people were in the habit of refering to 'King George's council, Winston and his gang,' it would go a long way to clearing thought, and reducing the frightful landslide into Theyocracy.
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The most improper job of any man, even saints (who at any rate were at least unwilling to take it on), is bossing other men. Not one in a million is fit for it, and least of all those who seek the opportunity.
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His grief he will not forget but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom.
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It is said by the Eldar that in water there lives yet the echo of the Music of the Ainur more than in any substance that is in this Earth and many of the Children of Ilúvatar hearken still unsated to the voices of the Sea, and yet know not for what they listen.
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Tears unnumbered ye shall shed.
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And the Ring is so heavy, Sam. I begin to see it in my mind all the time, like a great wheel of fire.
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That's the only place in all the lands we've ever heard of that we don't want to see any closer and that's the one place we're trying to get to! And that's just where we can't get, nohow.
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We may stand, if only on one leg, or at least be left still upon our knees.
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And now leave me in peace for a bit! I don't want to answer a string of questions while I am eating. I want to think! Good Heavens! said Pippin. At breakfast?
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The stars are far brighter Than gems without measure, The moon is far whiter Than silver in treasure The fire is more shining On hearth in the gloaming Than gold won by mining, So why go a-roaming? O! Tra-la-la-lally Come back to the Valley.
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There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something.
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And thus it came to pass that the Silmarils found their long homes: one in the airs of heaven, and one in the fires of the heart of the world, and one in the deep waters.
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Most English-speaking people, for instance, will admit that cellar door is 'beautiful', especially if dissociated from its sense (and its spelling). More beautiful than, say, sky, and far more beautiful than beautiful. Well then, in Welsh for me cellar doors are extraordinarily frequent.
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Gandalf: Three hundred lives of men I have walked this earth and now I have no time.
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When he heard there was nothing to eat, he sat down and wept… “Why did I ever wake up!” he cried.
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We wants it, we needs it. Must have the precious. They stole it from us. Sneaky little hobbitses. Wicked, tricksy, false!
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For the less even as for the greater there is some deed that he may accomplish but once only and in that deed his heart shall rest.
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There was a willow hanging over the mill-pool and I learned to climb it. It belonged to a butcher on the Stratford Road, I think. One day they cut it down. They didn't do anything with it: the log just lay there. I never forgot that.
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Eastward the dawn rose, ridge behind ridge into the morning, and vanished out of eyesight into guess it was no more than a glimmer blending with the hem of the sky, but it spoke to them, out of the memory and old tales, of the high and distant mountains.
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