Bilbo saw that the moment had come when he must do something.

He loved mountains, or he had loved the thought of them marching on the edge of stories brought from far away; but now he was borne down by the insupportable weight of Middle-earth. He longed to shut out the immensity in a quiet room by a fire.

Where will wants not, a way opens.

I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations, and always have done since I grew old and wary enough to detect its presence.

It was at this point that Bilbo stopped. Going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. The tremendous things that happened afterward were as nothing compared to it. He fought the real battle in the tunnel alone, before he ever saw the vast danger that lay in wait.

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.

It is plain that we were meant to go together.