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Let him go, you filth! Let him go! You will not touch him again!

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
Filth
Rings
Touch

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True courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one.
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Don't go where I can't follow!
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End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.
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Fifteen birds in five firtrees, their feathers were fanned in a fiery breeze! But, funny little birds, they had no wings! O what shall we do with the funny little things? Roast 'em alive, or stew them in a pot fry them, boil them and eat them hot?
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Hush! Take no notice! - Gandalf
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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 a Christian…so that I do not expect ‘history’ to be anything but a ‘long defeat’ — though it contains (and in a legend may contain more clearly and movingly) some samples or glimpses of final victory.
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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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Tomorrow we may come this way, And take the hidden paths that run Towards the Moon or to the Sun
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If we all got angry together something might be done.
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Dead men are not friends to living men, and give them no gifts. (Ghan-buri-Ghan, of allies during war)
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What punishments of God are not gifts?
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Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall
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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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Oh! That was poetry! said Pippin. Do you really mean to start before the break of day?
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Your lullaby would waken a drunken goblin!
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People remember Longfellow wrote Hiawatha, quite forget he was a Professor of Modern Languages!
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Instead of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen, not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Tempestuous as the sea, and stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me and despair!
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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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You are a set of deceitful scoundrels! But bless you! I give in. I will take Gildor's advice. If the danger were not so dark, I should dance for joy. Even so, I cannot help feeling happy happier than I have felt for a long time.
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