Many are the strange chances of the world, and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.

Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars, not if you care for such things.

I have spoken words of hope. But only of hope. Hope is not victory.

Farewell, and may the blessing of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces!

Go back! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master.

Eastward the dawn rose, ridge behind ridge into the morning, and vanished out of eyesight into guess; it was no more than a glimmer blending with the hem of the sky, but it spoke to them, out of the memory and old tales, of the high and distant mountains.

The one small garden of a free gardener was all his need and due, not a garden swollen to a realm; his own hands to use, not the hands of others to command.