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

Hobbits delighted in such things, if they were accurate; they liked to have books filled with things that they already knew, set out fair and square with no contradictions.

Many are the strange chances of the world, and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.

I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew.

He was kindhearted, in a way. You know the sort of kind heart: it made him uncomfortable more often than it made him do anything; and even when he did anything, it did not prevent him from grumbling, losing his temper and swearing (mostly to himself).

To think I should have lived to be goodmorninged by Belladonna Took's son, as if I was selling buttons at the door!

Ónen i-estel edain, ú-chebin estel anim. (I gave Hope to the Dúnedain, I have kept none for myself.) (Gilraen's linnod)