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He stands not alone. You would die before your stroke fell.
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
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Literary Critic
Military Officer
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John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
John R. R. Tolkien
J-R-R Tolkien
Tolkien
J.R.R. Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien
Dies
Would
Stroke
Strokes
Fell
Stands
Alone
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If this nice friendliness would spread about in Mordor, half our trouble would be over.
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Of the twelve companions of Thorin, ten remained. Fili and Kili had fallen defending him with shield and body, for he was their mother’s elder brother.
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Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not or that you feel good this morning or that it is a morning to be good on?
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Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Éowyn!
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Speak politely to an enraged dragon.
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Truly songs and tales fall utterly short of the reality, O Smaug the Chiefest and greatest of Calamities.
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He may become like a glass filled with a clear light for eyes to see that can.
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It is wisdom to recognize necessity when all other courses have been weighed, though as folly it may appear to those who cling to false hope.
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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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The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or over snow- an Elf!
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Is it nice, my preciousss? Is it juicy? Is it scrumptiously crunchable?
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Their horses were of great stature, strong and clean-limbed their gray coats glistened, their long tails flowed in the wind, their manes were braided on their proud necks.
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Tomorrow we may come this way, And take the hidden paths that run Towards the Moon or to the Sun
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I warn you, if you bore me, I shall take my revenge.
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grows like a seed in the dark out of the leaf-mould of the mind: out of all that has been seen or thought or read, that has long ago been forgotten, descending into the deeps.
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I am dreading the publication, for it will be impossible not to mind what is said. I have exposed my heart to be shot at.
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There is no ship now that can bear me hence
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Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo! By water, wood and hill, by reed and willow, By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us! Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!
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Fantasy remains a human right: we make in our measure and in our derivative mode, because we are made: and not only made, but made in the image and likeness of a Maker.
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We are being at once wisely aware of our own frivolity if we avoid hitting and whacking and prefer 'striking' and 'smiting' talk and chat and prefer 'speech' and 'discourse' well-bred, brilliant, or polite noblemen (visions of snobbery columns in the Press, and fat men on the Riviera) and prefer the 'worthy, brave and courteous men' of long ago.
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