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The Nazgul they were the Ringwraiths, the Enemy's most terribly servants darkness went with them and they cried with the voices of death.

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
Went
Enemy
Voice
Servants
Death
Terribly
Cried
Voices
Servant
Darkness

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No taste of food, no feel of water, no sound of wind, no memory of tree or grass or flower, no image of moon or star are left to me. I am naked in the dark, Sam, and there is no veil between me and the wheel of fire. I begin to see it even with my waking eyes, and all else fades.
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Gandalf: Three hundred lives of men I have walked this earth and now I have no time.
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It is not the strength of the body that counts, but the strength of the spirit.
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Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the key-hole.
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Let this be the hour when we draw swords together. Fell deeds awake. Now for wrath, now for ruin, and the red dawn. Forth, Eorlingas!
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Help means ruin and saving means slaying.
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I warn you, if you bore me, I shall take my revenge.
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Hush! Take no notice! - Gandalf
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It is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.
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The rule of no realm is mine. But all worthy things that are in peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I shall not wholly fail in my task if anything that passes through this night can still grow fairer or bear fruit and flower again in days to come. For I too am a steward. Did you not know?
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Come, Mr. Frodo!' he cried. 'I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you.
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It gives me great pleasure, a good name. I always in writing start with a name. Give me a name and it produces a story, not the other way about normally.
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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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I don't know, and I would rather not guess.
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He [Bilbo] fought the real battle in the tunnel alone, before he ever saw the vast danger that lay in wait.
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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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I don't see why the likes o' thee Without axin' leave should go makin' free With the shank or the shin o' my father's kin So hand the old bone over! Rover! Trover! Though dead he be, it belongs to he So hand the old bnone over!
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If you want to know what cram is, I can only say that I don’t know the recipe but it is biscuitish, keeps good indefinitely, is supposed to be sustaining, and is certainly not entertaining, being in fact very uninteresting except as a chewing exercise.
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And its object is Art not power, sub-creation not domination and tyrannous re-forming of Creation.
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The realm of fairy-story is wide and deep and high and filled with many things: all manner of beasts and birds are found there shoreless seas and stars uncounted beauty that is an enchantment, and an ever-present peril both joy and sorrow as sharp as swords.
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