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This thing all things devours: Birds, beasts, trees, flowers Gnaws iron, bites steel Grinds hard stones to meal Slays king, ruins town, And beats high mountain down.

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
Mountain
Town
Bites
Slays
Flower
Trees
Steel
Gnaws
Tree
Towns
Meals
Grinds
High
King
Birds
Devours
Hard
Beats
Beast
Riddle
Thing
Stones
Ruins
Beasts
Things
Bird
Iron
Grind
Time
Kings
Flowers
Meal

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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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The Nazgul they were the Ringwraiths, the Enemy's most terribly servants darkness went with them and they cried with the voices of death.
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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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And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. And for two and a half thousand years, the ring passed out of all knowledge.
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The chief purpose of life, for any of us, is to increase according to our capacity our knowledge of God by all means we have, and to be moved by it to praise and thanks.
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Memory is not what the heart desires.
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Goodbye, master, my dear! Forgive your Sam. He'll come back to this spot when the job's done - if he manages it. And then he'll not leave you again. Rest you quiet till I come and may no foul creature come anigh you! And if the Lady could hear me and give me one wish, I would wish to come back and find you again. Good bye!
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If you mean you think it is my job to go into the secret passage first, O Thorin Thrain’s son Oakenshield, may your beard grow ever longer,” he said crossly, “say so at once and have done!
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No language is justly studied merely as an aid to other purposes. It will in fact better serve other purposes, philological or historical, when it is studied for love, for itself.
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Memory is not what the heart desires. That is only a mirror, be it clear as Kheled-zaram. Or so says the heart of Gimli the Dwarf.
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I have no help to send, therefore I must go myself.
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I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it's very difficult to find anyone.
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A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.
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When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton.
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This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, and found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected.
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Pay heed to the tales of old wives. It may well be that they alone keep in memory what it was once needful for the wise to know.
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What have I got in my pocket? he said aloud. He was talking to himself, but Gollum thought it was a riddle, and he was frightfully upset. Not fair! not fair! he hissed. It isn't fair, my precious, is it, to ask us what it's got in it's nassty little pocketsess?
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He was as noble and fair in face as an elf-lord, as strong as a warrior, as wise as a wizard, as venerable as a king of dwarves, and as kind as summer.
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Thief, thief, thief! Baggins! We hates it, we hates it, we hates it forever!
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Sleep! I feel the need of it, as never I thought any dwarf could , riding is tiring work. Yet my axe is restless in my hand. Give me a row of orc-necks and room to swing and all weariness will fall from me!
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