For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.

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

I will take the Ring", he said, "though I do not know the way.

True education is a kind of never-ending story . . .

He stands not alone. You would die before your stroke fell.

Go back?" he thought. "No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!" So up he got, and trotted along with his little sword held in front of him and one hand feeling the wall, and his heart all of a patter and a pitter.

I wish life was not so short. Languages take such a time, and so do all the things one wants to know about.