The world is full enough of hurts and mischances without wars to multiply them.

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

Venice seemed incredibly lovely, elvishly lovely--to me like a dream of Old Gondor, or Pelargir of the Numenorean Ships, before the return of the Shadow.

Thief, thief, thief! Baggins! We hates it, we hates it, we hates it forever!

Tall ships and tall kings Three times three, What brought they from the foundered land Over the flowing sea? Seven stars and seven stones And one white tree. (The Two Towers)

Sleep! I feel the need of it, as never I thought any dwarf could , riding is tiring work. Yet my axe is restless in my hand. Give me a row of orc-necks and room to swing and all weariness will fall from me!

Still round the corner there may wait, A new road or a secret gate.