I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations.

And its object is Art not power, sub-creation not domination and tyrannous re-forming of Creation.

Let us remember that a traitor may betray himself and do good that he does not intend. It can be so, sometimes.

Far, far below the deepest delvings of the dwarves, the world is gnawed by nameless things.

He was tall as a young tree, lithe, immensely strong, able swiftly to draw a great war-bow and shoot down a Nazgûl, endowed with the tremendous vitality of Elvish bodies, so hard and resistant to hurt that he went only in light shoes over rock or through snow, the most tireless of all the Fellowship.

If your first Christmas tree is a wilting eucalyptus and if you're normally troubled by heat and sand... then, to have just at the age when imagination is opening out, suddenly find yourself in a quiet Warwickshire village, I think it engenders a particular love of what you might call central Midlands English countryside. Based on good water, stones and elm trees and small quiet rivers and so on, and of course, rustic people about.

The Resurrection is the eucatastrophe of the story of the Incarnation - This story begins and ends in joy.