Who are you, Master?' he asked. 'Eh, what?' said Tom sitting up, and his eyes glinting in the gloom. 'Don't you know my name yet? That's the only answer. Tell me, who are you, alone, yourself and nameless?

End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path... One that we all must take.

If you're going to have a complicated story you must work to a map; otherwise you'll never make a map of it afterwards.

I wish life was not so short. Languages take such a time, and so do all the things one wants to know about.

Memory is not what the heart desires.

I am old, Gandalf. I don't look it, but I am beginning to feel it in my heart of hearts. Well-preserved indeed! Why, I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread. That can't be right. I need a change, or something.

Let this be the hour when we draw swords together. Fell deeds awake. Now for wrath, now for ruin, and the red dawn. Forth, Eorlingas!