It is mine, I tell you. My own. My precious. Yes, my precious.

A year shall I endure for every day that passes until your return.

We may indeed in counsel point to the higher road, but we cannot compel any free creature to walk upon it. That leadeth to tyranny, which disfigureth good and maketh it seem hateful.

And now at last it comes. You will give me the Ring freely! In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair!

To crooked eyes truth may wear a wry face

There are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world.

Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars.