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Tomorrow we may come this way, And take the hidden paths that run Towards the Moon or to the Sun

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
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Translator
John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
John R. R. Tolkien
J-R-R Tolkien
Tolkien
J.R.R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
Path
Running
May
Paths
Come
Hidden
Take
Towards
Way
Sun
Moon
Tomorrow

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Elrond's house was perfect, whether you liked food or sleep or story-telling or singing (or reading), or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all. Merely to be there was a cure for weariness. ... Evil things did not come into the secret valley of Rivendell.
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The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him.
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Each of us embodies, in a particular tale and clothed in the garments of time & place, universal truth and everlasting life.
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The world was fair, the mountains tall In Elder Days before the fall.
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Why was I chosen?' 'Such questions cannot be answered,' said Gandalf. 'You may be sure that it was not for any merit that others do not possess. But you have been chosen, and you must therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have.
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Orcs, and talking trees, and leagues of grass, and galloping riders, and glittering caves, and white towers and golden halls, and battles, and tall ships sailing, all these passed before Sam's mind.
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Perilous to us all are the devices of an art deeper than we possess ourselves.
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What did I tell you, Mr. Pippin?' said Sam, sheathing his sword. 'Wolves won't get him. That was an eye-opener, and no mistake! Nearly singed the hair off my head!
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I sit beside the fire and think of all that I have seen, of meadow-flowers and butterflies in summers that have been Of yellow leaves and gossamer in autumns that there were, with morning mist and silver sun and wind upon my hair.
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We are lost, lost,' said Gollum. 'No name, no business, no Precious, nothing. Only empty. Only hungry yes, we are hungry. A few little fishes, nasty bony little fishes, for a poor creature, and they say death. So wise they are so just, so very just
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Home is behind, the world ahead, And there are many paths to tread Through shadows to the edge of night, Until the stars are all alight. Then world behind and home ahead, We'll wander back and home to bed. Mist and twilight, cloud and shade, Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
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I invented that little rhyme about 'One Ring to rule them all', I remember, in the bath one day.
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A friend of mine tells that I talk in shorthand and then smudge it.
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Nearly all marriages, even happy ones, are mistakes: in the sense that almost certainly (in a more perfect world, or even with a little more care in this very imperfect one) both partners might be found more suitable mates. But the real soul-mate is the one you are actually married to.
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What do you fear, lady? [Aragorn] asked. A cage, [Éowyn] said. To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.
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it was easier to believe in the Dragon and less easy to believe in Thorin in these wild parts
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Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo, a star shines on the hour of our meeting.
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Who are you, Master?' he asked. 'Eh, what?' said Tom sitting up, and his eyes glinting in the gloom. 'Don't you know my name yet? That's the only answer. Tell me, who are you, alone, yourself and nameless?
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