The world was fair, the mountains tall In Elder Days before the fall.

I have an unsatisfied desire to shoot well with a bow.

Farewell we call to hearth and hall! Though wind may blow and rain may fall. We must away ere the break of day. Far over wood and mountain tall.

The war made me poignantly aware of the beauty of the world.

And it is not our part here to take thought only for a season, or for a few lives of Men, or for a passing age of the world.

I've always been impressed that we are here, surviving, because of the indomitable courage of quite small people against impossible odds.

There is no curse in Elvish, Entish or the tongues of Men for this treachery!