It's a dangerous business, going out your door.
We may stand, if only on one leg, or at least be left still upon our knees.
Where iss it, where iss it: my Precious, my Precious? It's ours, it is, and we wants it.
Memory is not what the heart desires. That is only a mirror, be it clear as Kheled-zaram. Or so says the heart of Gimli the Dwarf.
Never laugh at live dragons.
Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory