J. R. R. Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien

J. R. R.
Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
1954
1973

English Writer, Fantasy Novelist, Poet, Philologist and University Profess best known for The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion

Author Quotes

Whether they've made the land, or the land's made them, it's hard to say, if you take my meaning.

Yes, I am here. And you are lucky to be here too after all the absurd things you've done since you left home.

You are wise and fearless and fair, Lady Galadriel,' said Frodo. 'I will give you the One Ring, if you ask for it. It is too great a matter for me

You'll live to regret it, young fellow! Why didn't you go too? You don't belong here; you're no Baggins?you?you're a Brandybuck!' 'Did you hear that, Merry? That was an insult, if you like,' said Frodo as he shut the door on her. 'It was a compliment,' said Merry Brandybuck, 'and so, of course, not true.

Who are you, Master?' he asked.

Yes, I am white now,' said Gandalf. 'Indeed I am Saruman, one might almost say, Saruman as he should have been.

You aren't nearly through this adventure yet.

Your lullaby would waken a drunken goblin

Why are you so unfriendly?' said Boromir. 'I am a true man, neither thief nor tracker. I need your Ring: that you know now; but I give you my word that I do not desire to keep it. Will you not at least let me make trial of my plan? Lend me the Ring! 'No! No!' cried Frodo. 'The Council laid it upon me to bear it.' 'It is by our own folly that the Enemy will defeat us,' cried Boromir. 'How it angers me! Fool! Obstinate fool! Running wilfully to death and ruining our cause. If any mortals have claim to the Ring, it is the men of Numenor, and not Halfings. It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It might have been mine. It should be mine. Give it to me!

Yes, that's so,' said Sam. 'And we shouldn't be here at all, if we'd known more about it before we started. But I suppose it's often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually ? their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on ? and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same ? like old Mr Bilbo. But those aren't always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we've fallen into?' 'I wonder,' said Frodo. 'But I don't know. And that's the way of a real tale. Take any one that you're fond of. You may know, or guess, what kind of a tale it is, happy-ending or sad-ending, but the people in it don't know. And you don't want them to.' 'No, sir, of course not. Beren now, he never thought he was going to get that Silmaril from the Iron Crown in Thangorodrim, and yet he did, and that was a worse place and a blacker danger than ours. But that's a long tale, of course, and goes on past the happiness and into grief and beyond it ? and the Silmaril went on and came to E„rendil. And why, sir, I never thought of that before! We've got ? you've got some of the light of it in that star-glass that the Lady gave you! Why, to think of it, we're in the same tale still! It's going on. Don't the great tales never end?' 'No, they never end as tales,' said Frodo. 'But the people in them come, and go when their part's ended. Our part will end later ? or sooner.

You call a tree a tree, he said, and you think nothing more of the word. But it was not a 'tree' until someone gave it that name. You call a star a star, and say it is just a ball of matter moving on a mathematical course. But that is merely how you see it. By so naming things and describing them you are only inventing your own terms about them. And just as speech is invention about objects and ideas, so myth is invention about truth. We have come from God (continued Tolkien), and inevitably the myths woven by us, though they contain error, will also reflect a splintered fragment of the true light, the eternal truth that is with God. Indeed only by myth-making, only by becoming a 'sub-creator' and inventing stories, can Man aspire to the state of perfection that he knew before the Fall. Out myths may be misguided, but they steer however shakily towards the true harbor, while materialistic 'progress' leads only to a yawning abyss and the Iron Crown of evil.

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

Why must you speak your thoughts? Silence, if fair words stick in your throat, would serve all our ends better.

Yes, they are elves, Legolas said. and they say that you breathe so loud they could shoot you in the dark. Sam hastily covered his mouth.

You can only come to the morning through the shadows.

Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.

Why O why did I ever leave my hobbithole?' said poor Mr. Baggins, bumping up and down on Bomburs back.

Yes, yes and i want to get unlost... As soon as possible!

You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin ? to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours ? closer than you yourself keep it. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo. Anyway: there it is. We know most of what Gandalf has told you. We know a good deal about the ring. We are horribly afraid?but we are coming with you; or following you like hounds.

Your time will come. You will face the same Evil, and you will defeat it.

Why should a man be scorned if, finding himself in prison, he tries to get out and go home? Or if, when he cannot do so, he thinks and talks about other topics than jailers and prison-walls?

'Yes, yes my dear sir and I do know your name Mr. Bilbo Baggins. And you do know my name, though you don't remember that I belong to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me.

You cannot pass,' he said. The orcs stood still, and a dead silence fell. 'I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun. Go back to the Shadow You cannot pass.

Why was I chosen?' 'Such questions cannot be answered,' said Gandalf. 'You may be sure that it was not for any merit that others do not possess. But you have been chosen, and you must therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have.

Yes, yes we could. Spoiling nice fish, scorching it. Give me fish now, and keep nasty chips!

Author Picture
First Name
J. R. R.
Last Name
Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
Birth Date
1954
Death Date
1973
Bio

English Writer, Fantasy Novelist, Poet, Philologist and University Profess best known for The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion