This site is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Alan William Smolowe who gave birth to the creation of this database.
J. R. R. Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. For even the very wise cannot see all ends.
J. R. R. Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
Criticism - however valid or intellectually engaging - tends to get in the way of a writer who has anything personal to say. A tightrope walker may require practice, but if he starts a theory of equilibrium he will lose grace (and probably fall off).
Focus | Knowledge | Mind | Reason | Research | Unique | Work | Following |
J. R. R. Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
A fox passing through the wood on business of his own stopped several minutes and sniffed. 'Hobbits!' he thought. 'Well, what next? I have heard of strange doings in this land, but I have seldom heard of a hobbit sleeping out of doors under a tree. Three of them! There's something mighty queer behind this.' He was quite right, but he never found out any more about it.
Fraternity | Mind | World |
J. B. Priestly, fully John Boynton Priestly
No matter how piercing and appalling his insights, the desolation creeping over his outer world, the lurid lights and shadows of his inner world, the writer must live with hope, work in faith.
Joy | Light | Mind | Sense | Thinking | Thought | Time | Thought |
J. R. R. Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
He was tall as a young tree, lithe, immensely strong, able swiftly to draw a great war-bow and shoot down a Nazg–l, endowed with the tremendous vitality of Elvish bodies, so hard and resistant to hurt that he went only in light shoes over rock or through snow, the most tireless of all the Fellowship.
Mind | Organization | Think |
J. R. R. Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
I pass over pangs to me of passing through Hall Green--become a huge tram-ridden meaningless suburb, where I actually lose my way--and eventually down what is left of beloved lanes of childhood, and past the very gate of our cottage, now in the midst of a sea of new red-brick. The old mill still stands, and Mrs. Hunt's still sticks out into the road as it turns uphill; but the crossing beyond the now fenced-in pool, where the bluebell lane ran down into the mill lane, is now a dangerous crossing alive with motors and red lights. The White Ogre's house (which the children were very excited to see) is become a petrol station, and most of Short Avenue and the elms between it and the crossing have gone. How I envy those whose precious early scenery has not been exposed to such violent and peculiarly hideous change. Her hair was raven, her skin clear, her eyes bright, and she could sing--and dance.
J. R. R. Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
I gave you the chance of aiding me willingly, but you have elected the way of pain.
Mind |