Orcs, and talking trees, and leagues of grass, and galloping riders, and glittering caves, and white towers and golden halls, and battles, and tall ships sailing, all these passed before Sam's mind.

Don't adventures ever have an end? I suppose not. Someone else always has to carry on on the story.

deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us; but they are gone.

Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars, not if you care for such things.

Much evil must befall a country before it wholly forgets the Elves, if once they dwelt there.

The washing-up was so dismally real that Bilbo was forced to believe the party of the night before had not been part of his bad dreams, as he had rather hoped.

Your talk of sniffling riders with invisible noses has unsettled me.