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

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.

Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?

I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.

And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. And for two and a half thousand years, the ring passed out of all knowledge.

Yes, I am here. And you are lucky to be here too after all the absurd things you’ve done since you left home.

And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her.

One forgets words as one forgets names. One’s vocabulary needs constant fertilizing or it will die.

To be human is to embrace change. There are parts of you ready to die and parts of you waiting to be born. You are never broken, lost. You are ever changing. Always becoming.

Science advances one funeral at a time.

My father believes that Western religions are death cults, which I agree with.

I think there’s something peculiar about me that I haven’t died. It doesn’t make sense but I refuse to die.

Gun violence is real. People don’t come back.

If it has to choose who is to be crucified, the crowd will always save Barabbas.

After the writer’s death, reading his journal is like receiving a long letter.