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
Better mistrust undeserved than rash words.
J. R. R. Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
A tree there tower Tall and branching That house upholding The hall's wonder Its leaves their hangings Its limbs rafters Its mighty bole In the midst standing.
J. R. R. Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
A principal source of happiness to them was their shared love for their family...Tolkien was immensely kind and understanding as a father, never shy of kissing his sons in public even when they were grown men, and never reserved in his display of warmth and love.
Evidence | Example | Failure | Fear | Friend | Relationship | Remorse | War | Failure |
J. B. Priestly, fully John Boynton Priestly
Most writers enjoy two periods of happiness - when a glorious idea comes to mind and, secondly, when a last page has been written and you haven't had time to know how much better it ought to be.
Experience | Fear | Illusion | World |
J. R. R. Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
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.
Fear |
J. R. R. Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
In one thing you have not changed, dear friend,' said Aragorn: 'you still speak in riddles.' 'What? In riddles?' said Gandalf. 'No For I was talking aloud to myself. A habit of the old: they choose the wisest person present to speak to; the long explanations needed by the young are wearying.
J. R. R. Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
I sit beside the fire and think of all that i have seen of meadow flowers and butterflies in summers that have been of yellow leaves and gossamer in autumns that there were with morning mist and silver sun and wind upon my hair. I sit beside the fire and think of how the world will be when winter comes without a spring that I shall ever see. For still there are so many things that I have never seen in every wood in every spring there is a different green. I sit beside the fire and think of people long ago and people that will see a world that i shall never know. But all the while I sit and think of times there were before I listen for returning feet and voices at the door.
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