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Evidently we look so much alike that your desire to make an incurable dent in my hat must be excused.
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
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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
Alike
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Looks
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Must
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The Darkness has begun. There will be no dawn.
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Very potent influence on myself has been Finnish.
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And sometimes you didn't want to know the end… because how could the end be happy?
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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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Better mistrust undeserved than rash words.
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I may be a burglar...but I'm an honest one, I hope, more or less.
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I am wholly in favour of 'dull stodges'. A surprising large proportion prove 'educable': for which a primary qualification is the willingness to do work.
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How could such a large door be kept secret from everybody outside, apart from the dragon? [Bilbo] asked. He was only a little hobbit you must remember.
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Don't put a lump of rock under my elbow again!
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Let him go, you filth! Let him go! You will not touch him again!
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If this is victory, then our hands are too small to hold it.
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Farewell we call to hearth and hall! Though wind may blow and rain may fall. We must away ere the break of day. Far over wood and mountain tall.
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You cannot pass, he said. The orcs stood still, and a dead silence fell. I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass.
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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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If you took this thing on yourself, unwilling, at others' asking, then you have pity and honour from me. And I marvel at you: to keep it hid and not to use it. You are a new people and a new world to me. Are all your kin of like sort? Your land must be a realm of peace and content, and there must gardners be in high hounour.
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If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.
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And what do you wish?' he said at last. 'That what should be shall be,' she answered.
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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.
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