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Splendid! They used to go up like great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all evening!

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
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Splendid
Twilight
Hang
Evening
Flower
Fire
Used
Great
Lilies

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I wish life was not so short. Languages take such a time, and so do all the things one wants to know about.
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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.
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evil labours with vast power and perpetual success - in vain: preparing always only the soil for unexpected good to sprout in.
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The doom lies in yourself, not in your name.
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After some while Bilbo became impatient. Well, what is it? he said. The answer's not a kettle boiling over, as you seem to think by the noise you are making.
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Upon the hearth the fire is red, Beneath the roof there is a bed But not yet weary are our feet, Still round the corner we may meet A sudden tree or standing stone That none have seen but we alone. Tree and flower and leaf and grass, Let them pass! Let them pass!
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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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Wraiths! Wraiths on wings!
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I've always been impressed that we are here, surviving, because of the indomitable courage of quite small people against impossible odds.
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There was a little corner of his mind that was still his own, and light came through it, as though a chink in the dark: light out of the past. It was actually pleasant, I think, to hear a kindly voice agin, bringing up memories of wind, and trees, and sun on the grass, and such forgotten things.
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At my age I'm exactly the kind of person who has lived through one of the most quickly changing periods known to history. Surely there could never be in seventy years so much change.
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The War is not over (and the one that is, or the part of it, has been largely lost). But it is of course wrong to fall into such a mood, for Wars are always lost, and War always goes on and it is no good growing faint.
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And then all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the joy of battle was on them, and the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came even to the City.
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Books ought to have good endings.How would this do: and they all settled down and lived together happily ever after?
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The most improper job of any man, even saints (who at any rate were at least unwilling to take it on), is bossing other men. Not one in a million is fit for it, and least of all those who seek the opportunity.
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Such bees! Bilbo had never seen anything like them. If one were to sting me, He thought I should swell up as big as I am!
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It cannot be seen, cannot be felt, Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt, It lies behind stars and under hills, And empty holes it fills, It comes first and follows after, Ends life, kills laughter.
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Go back? he thought. No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go! So up he got, and trotted along with his little sword held in front of him and one hand feeling the wall, and his heart all of a patter and a pitter.
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Do not meddle in the affairs of Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger.
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Lazy Lob and crazy Cob are weaving webs to wind me. I am far more sweet than other meat, but still they cannot find me! Here am I, naughty little fly you are fat and lazy. You cannot trap me, though you try, in your cobwebs crazy.
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