I am dreading the publication, for it will be impossible not to mind what is said. I have exposed my heart to be shot at.

The way is shut. It was made by those who are Dead, and the Dead keep it, until the time comes. The way is shut.

I desired dragons with a profound desire. Of course, I in my timid body did not wish to have them in the neighborhood. But the world that contained even the imagination of Fáfnir was richer and more beautiful, at whatever the cost of peril.

We must do without hope.

Books ought to have good endings.How would this do: and they all settled down and lived together happily ever after?

Far over misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away, ere break of day, To find our long-forgotten gold.

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