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

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.

Among the great struggles of man-good/evil, reason/unreason, etc.-there is also this mighty conflict between the fantasy of Home and the fantasy of Away, the dream of roots and the mirage of the journey.

You know what a miracle is. Not what Bakunin said. But another world’s intrusion into this one. Most of the time we coexist peacefully, but when we do touch there’s cataclysm.

But with a sigh he had released her hand, while she was so lost in the fantasy that she hadn’t felt it go away, as if he’d known the best moment to let go.

For every kind of vampire, there is a kind of cross.

I’ve done about anything I can fantasize about in the cold.

I believe cats to be spirits come to earth. A cat, I am sure, could walk on a cloud without coming through.

I don’t really like politics that much. And I like the order and simplicity of sports. They have an ending. You can argue with your friends about it, but in the end you still like sports. I almost love the fantasy world of sports more than the real world.

War is hell. Hollywood fantasizes about it and makes it look good; war sucks.