Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

Courage is found in unlikely places.

Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger.

A box without hinges, key, or lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid.

He that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom.

Little by little, one travels far.

There is no real going back. Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same.

One Ring to rule them all,
One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all
and in the darkness bind them.

It’s a dangerous business going out your front door.

She should not die, so young and beautiful. At least, she should not die alone.

What do you mean? 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 on this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?

Gentlemen are non-existent among the superiors, and even human beings are rare indeed.

Often does hatred hurt itself!

I have no help to send, therefore I must go myself.

A man that flies from his fear may find that he has only taken a short cut to meet it.

There are some things that it is better to begin than to refuse, even though the end may be dark.

The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.

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

War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for it’s sharpness, nor the arrow for it’s swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.

There I lay staring upward, while the stars wheeled over… Faint to my ears came the gathered rumour of all lands: the springing and the dying, the song and the weeping, and the slow everlasting groan of overburdened stone.

The world has changed.
I see it in the water.
I feel it in the Earth.
I smell it in the air.
Much that once was is lost,
For none now live who remember it.

Wars are not favourable to delicate pleasures.

The Road goes ever on and on down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, and I must follow, if I can, pursuing it with eager feet, until it joins some larger way where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say.

It is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.

Nearly all marriages, even happy ones, are mistakes: in the sense that almost certainly in a more perfect world, or even with a little more care in this very imperfect one both partners might be found more suitable mates. But the real soul-mate is the one you are actually married to.

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 reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
a light from the shadows shall spring;
renenwed shall be blade that was broken,
the crownless again shall be king.

Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go
To heal my heart and drown my woe
Rain may fall, and wind may blow
And many miles be still to go
But under a tall tree will I lie
And let the clouds go sailing by

I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been
Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair
I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see
For still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green
I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never know
But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door.

Deep roots are not reached by frost.

All that is gold does not glitter;
Not all those that wander are lost.