Цитаты из книги Властелин Колец

The clatter of his precious pans as they fell down into the dark was like a death-knell to his heart.

No taste of food, no feel of water, no sound of wind, no memory of tree or grass or flower, no image of moon or star are left to me. I am naked in the dark, Sam, and there is no veil between me and the wheel of fire.

When there's a whip, there's a will, my slugs.

If this nice friendliness would spread about in Mordor, half our trouble would be over.

For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.

To move an inch further was a pain and weariness to will and limb.

The whole thing is quite hopeless, so it's no good worrying about tomorrow. It probably won't come.

In western lands beneath the Sun The flowers may rise in Spring; The trees may bud, the waters run, The merry finches sing. Or there may be 'tis cloudless night And swaying beeches bear The Elven stars as jewels white Amid their branching hair. Though here at journey's end I lie In darkness buried deep, Beyond all towers strong and high, Beyond all mountains steep, Above all shadows rides the Sun And stars for ever dwell: I will not say the Day is done, Nor bid the Stars farewell.

He would have welcomed a fight - with not too many enemies at a time - rather than this hideous brooding uncertainty.

No choice was left to them but to play their part to the end.

To waver is to fall.

Silver flow the streams from Celos to Erui In the green fields of Lebennin! Tall grows the grass there. In the wind from the Sea The white lilies sway, And the golden bells are shaken of mallos and alfirin In the great fields of Lebennin, In the wind from the Sea!

It is ever so with the things that Men begin: there is a frost in Spring, or a blight in Summer, and they fail of their promise.

When the black breath blows And death' shadow grows And all lights pass, Come athelas! Come athelas! Life to the dying In the king's hand lying!

The hands of the kings are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.

Dead men are not friends to living men, and give them no gifts.

Let us remember that a traitor may betray himself and do good that he does not intend.

But in desperate hours gentleness may be repaid with death.

And I'm not used, Master Beregond, to waiting hungry on others while they eat. It is a sore trial for a hobbit, that.

He longed to shut out the immensity in a quiet room by a fire.