But Sam turned to Bywater, and so came back up the Hill, as day was ending once more. And he went on, and there was yellow light, and fire within; and the evening meal was ready, and he was expected. And Rose drew him in, and set him in his chair, and put little Elanor upon his lap. He drew a deep breath. ‘Well, I’m back,’ he said

My own dear mother was a martyr indeed, and it is not to everybody that God grants so easy a way to his great gifts as he did to Hilary and myself, giving us a mother who killed herself with labour and trouble to ensure us keeping the faith.

Most people have made this mistake of thinking Middle-earth is a particular kind of earth or is another planet of the science fiction sort but it's just an old fashioned word for this world we live in, as imagined surrounded by the Ocean.

True education is a kind of never ending story — a matter of continual beginnings, of habitual fresh starts, of persistent newness.

Curse us and crush us, my precious is lost!

Voiceless it cries, Wingless flutters, Toothless bites, Mouthless mutters.

We meet again, at the turn of the tide. A great storm is coming, but the tide has turned.