We have sworn, and not lightly. This oath we will keep. We are threatened with many evils, and treason not least; but one thing is not said: that we shall suffer from cowardice, from cravens or the fear of cravens. Therefore I say that we will go on, and this doom I add: the deeds that we shall do shall be the matter of song until the last days of Arda.

No dragon can resist the fascination of riddling talk and of wasting time trying to understand it.

I don't know, and I would rather not guess.

Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Éowyn!

Still round the corner there may wait A new road or a secret gate And though I oft have passed them by A day will come at last when I Shall take the hidden paths that run West of the Moon, East of the Sun.

I wish I was at home in my nice hole by the fire, with the kettle just beginning to sing!

Thief, thief, thief! Baggins! We hates it, we hates it, we hates it forever!