Some sang too that Thror and Thrain would come back one day and gold would flow in rivers, through the mountain-gates, and all that land would be filled with new song and new laughter. But this pleasant legend did not much affect their daily business.

I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.

Alive without breath, As cold as death; Never thirsty, ever drinking, All in mail never clinking.

When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton.

And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. And for two and a half thousand years, the ring passed out of all knowledge.

You have been chosen, and you must therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have.

We are plain quiet folk, and I have no use for adventures. Nasty, disturbing, and uncomfortable things.