Trolls simply detest the very sight of dwarves (uncooked).
Tom’s words laid bare the hearts of the trees and their thoughts, which were often dark and strange, filled with a hatred of things that go free upon the earth, gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, bur...
To think I should have lived to be goodmorninged by Belladonna Took's son, as if I was selling buttons at the door!
These are indeed strange days,’ he (Éomer) muttered. ‘Dreams and legends spring to life out of the grass.
Then shouldering their burdens, they set off, seeking a path that would bring them over the grey hills of the Emyn Muil, and down into the Land of Shadow.
Their 'magic' is Art, delivered from many of its human limitations.
The hasty stroke oft goes astray.
The Doom (or the Gift) of Men is mortality, freedom from the circles of the world.
Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the key-hole.
Sorry! I don't want any adventures, thank you. Not Today. Good morning! But please come to tea -any time you like! Why not tomorrow? Good bye!
Roads Go Ever OnRoads go ever ever on,Over rock and under tree,By caves where never sun has shone,By streams that never find the sea;Over snow by winter sown,And through the merry flowers of June,Over...
O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!We still remember, we who dwellIn this far land beneath the trees.Thy starlight on the Western Seas.
Now of old the name of that forest was Greenwood the Great, and its wide halls and aisles were the haunt of many beasts and of birds of bright song; and there was the realm of King Thranduil under the...
No one, I fancy, would discredit a story that the Archbishop of Canterbury slipped on a banana skin merely because he found that a similar comic mishap had been reported of many people, and especially...
No hay nada como mirar, si queréis encontrar algo. Cierto que casi siempre, se encuentra algo, si se mira, pero no siempre es lo que uno busca.
May the hair on your toes never fall out!
If this nice friendliness would spread out in Mordor, half our trouble would be over.
I invented that little rhyme about 'One Ring to rule them all', I remember, in the bath one day.
Hige sceal pe heardra, heorte pe cenre,mod sceal pe mare pe ure maegen lytlao.
Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My darling!Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling.Down along under the Hill, shining in the sunlight,Waiting on the doorstep for the cold starlight,Ther...