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Some sang too that Thror and Thrain would come back one day and gold would flow in rivers, through the mountain-gates, and all that land would be filled with new song and new laughter. But this pleasant legend did not much affect their daily business.

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
Come
Flow
Sang
Much
Mountain
Legends
Would
Filled
Affect
Gold
Gates
Land
Pleasant
Song
Daily
Business
Rivers
Back
Laughter
Legend

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The main mark of modern governments is that we do not know who governs, de facto any more than de jure. We see the politician and not his backer still less the backer of the backer or, what is most important of all, the banker of the backer.
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Far more often [than asking the question 'Is it true?'] they [children] have asked me: 'Was he good? Was he wicked?' That is, they were far more concerned to get the Right side and the Wrong side clear. For that is a question equally important in History and in Faerie.
J. R. R. Tolkien
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deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us but they are gone.
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Deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.
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Don't leave me here alone! It's your Sam calling. Don't go where I can't follow! Wake up, Mr. Frodo!
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Orcs, and talking trees, and leagues of grass, and galloping riders, and glittering caves, and white towers and golden halls, and battles, and tall ships sailing, all these passed before Sam's mind.
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And there was Frodo, pale and worn, and yet himself again and in his eyes there was peace now, neither strain of will, nor madness, nor any fear. His burden was taken away.
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The Resurrection was the greatest ‘eucatastrophe’ possible in the greatest Fairy Story — and produces that essential emotion: Christian joy which produces tears because it is qualitatively so like sorrow, because it comes from those places where Joy and Sorrow are at one, reconciled, as selfishness and altruism are lost in Love.
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Speak no evil of the Lady Galadriel! said Aragorn sternly. You know not what you say. There is in her and in this land, no evil, unless a man bring it hither himself. Then let him beware!
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All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king.
J. R. R. Tolkien
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Where iss it, where iss it: my Precious, my Precious? It's ours, it is, and we wants it.
J. R. R. Tolkien
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Eastward the dawn rose, ridge behind ridge into the morning, and vanished out of eyesight into guess it was no more than a glimmer blending with the hem of the sky, but it spoke to them, out of the memory and old tales, of the high and distant mountains.
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Is it nice, my preciousss? Is it juicy? Is it scrumptiously crunchable?
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Praise from the praise-worthy is beyond all rewards.
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Dwarves are not heroes, but a calculating folk with a great idea of the value of money some are tricky and treacherous and pretty bad lots some are not but are decent enough people like Thorin and Company, if you don't expect too much.
J. R. R. Tolkien
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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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Then she fell on her knees, saying: 'I beg thee!' 'Nay, lady,' he said, and taking her by the hand he raised her. The he kissed her hand, and sprang into the saddle, and rode away, and did not look back and only those who knew him well and were near to him saw the pain that he bore.
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Gandalf! I thought you were dead! But then I thought I was dead myself. Is everything sad going to come untrue? What's happened to the world?
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Perilous to us all are the devices of an art deeper than we possess ourselves.
J. R. R. Tolkien
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There was a willow hanging over the mill-pool and I learned to climb it. It belonged to a butcher on the Stratford Road, I think. One day they cut it down. They didn't do anything with it: the log just lay there. I never forgot that.
J. R. R. Tolkien