“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.”

What does your heart tell you?

There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.

How shall a man judge what to do in such times?’

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 wrecked by the frost.

So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their endings.

Then something Tookish woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves, and wear a sword instead of a walking-stick.

Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends.

No Victory Without Suffering

What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance!’

I am the clue-finder, the web-cutter, the stinging fly. I was chosen for the lucky number.

In this hour, I do not believe that any darkness will endure.

May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks.

Living by faith includes the call to something greater than cowardly self-preservation.

The way is shut. It was made by those who are Dead, and the Dead keep it, until the time comes. The way is shut.

A hunted man sometimes wearies of distrust and longs for friendship.

His grief he will not forget; but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom.

There’s no substitute for the love of language, for the beauty of an English sentence. There’s no substitute for struggling, if a struggle is needed, to make an English sentence as beautiful as it should be.

O, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.

I often think flowers are the angels’ alphabet whereby they write on hills and fields mysterious and beautiful lessons for us to feel and learn.

Goodness is beauty in the best estate.

Fire delight burning bright, full of beauty glimmering ruby.

All dreams of the soul End in a beautiful man’s or woman’s body.

Beautiful woman are like bees, stuck in their own honey.

If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, ’twas but a dream of thee.