“I am the friend of bears and the guest of eagles. I am Ringwinner and Luckwearer; and I am Barrel-rider.”

End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path. One that we all must take.

For even the very wise cannot see all ends.

Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars.

A safe fairyland is untrue to all worlds.

All’s well that ends better.

Don’t go where I can’t follow!

And he took her in his arms and kissed her under the sunlit sky, and he cared not that they stood high upon the walls in the sight of many.

It’s the job that’s never started as takes longest to finish.

May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out.

I was talking aloud to myself. A habit of the old: they choose the wisest person present to speak to

For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.

Come, Mr. Frodo!’ he cried. ‘I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you.

Some who have read the book, or at any rate have reviewed it, have found it boring, absurd, or contemptible, and I have no cause to complain, since I have similar opinions of their works, or of the kinds of writing that they evidently prefer.

It is perilous to study too deeply the arts of the Enemy, for good or for ill.

I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.

It is not despair, for despair is only for those who see the end beyond all doubt. We do not.

Most books on witchcraft will tell you that witches work naked. This is because most books on witchcraft were written by men.

I liked myths. They weren’t adult stories and they weren’t children’s stories. They were better than that. They just were.

Somehow you’d had your mermaids never smell like fish.

Monsters only ever exist in the shadows if you look for them.

We would look with scorn at witch mothers who build towers but not at princes who lust after caged women.

Careful your fantasies are showing.

Like a busy fairy smiling in its own melancholy on unending Friday nights, the loving wings of my realistic fantasies, spread themselves as wide as the sea.

I was in love with my own chaos, gripping tightly onto fantasies, falling into traps that swallowed me whole. I am in awe of how chaotic I am, as falling hard into my own trap saved me from who I became.