“Pay heed to the tales of old wives. It may well be that they alone keep in memory what it was once needful for the wise to know.”

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.

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.

Music at its essence is what gives us memories.

The world seems a lonesome place when mother has passed away and only memories of her are left.

A heart-memory is better than a mere head-memory. Better to carry away a little of the love of Christ in our souls, than if we were able to repeat every word of every sermon we ever heard.

Receive, Lord, all my liberty, my memory, my understanding and my whole will.

The best memories are the ones where I remember you and nothing else.

Men act like brutes in so far as the sequences of their perceptions arise through the principle of memory only, like those empirical physicians who have mere practice without theory.

The best memories are the ones where I remember you and nothing else.

True alchemy lies in this formula: ‘Your memory and your senses are but the nourishment of your creative impulse’.