Fairy tale does not deny the existence of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance. It denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat...giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy; Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.

Gandalf: Confound it all, Samwise Gamgee. Have you been eavesdropping? Sam: I ain't been droppin' no eaves sir, honest. I was just cutting the grass under the window there, if you'll follow me. Gandalf: A little late for trimming the verge, don't you think? Sam: I heard raised voices. Gandalf: What did you hear? Speak. Sam: N-nothing important. That is, I heard a good deal about a ring, and a Dark Lord, and something about the end of the world, but... Please, Mr. Gandalf, sir, don't hurt me. Don't turn me into anything... unnatural.

I don't feel any guilt complex about The Lord of the Rings.

I wish I was at home in my nice hole by the fire, with the kettle just beginning to sing!

And the Ring is so heavy, Sam. I begin to see it in my mind all the time, like a great wheel of fire.

We may stand, if only on one leg, or at least be left still upon our knees.

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