His face was sad and stern because of the doom that was laid on him, and yet hope dwelt ever in the depths of his heart, from which mirth would arise at times like a spring from a rock.

I have never had much confidence in my own work, and even now when I am assured (still much to my grateful surprise) that it has value for other people, I feel diffident, reluctant as it were to expose my world of imagination to possibly contemptuous eyes and ears.

My armor is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!

You may not like my burglar, but please don't damage him.

Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars.

What has roots as nobody sees, Is taller than trees Up, up it goes, And yet never grows? A mountain.

It needs but one foe to breed a war, and those who have not swords can still die upon them.