"By 1918 all but one of my close friends were dead."
Our Own Dear John Ronald: Tolkien’s Heresy
"There is an ancient myth in this feature, that of the 'true language', the tongue in which there is a thing for each word and a word for each thing, and in which signifier then naturally has power over signified."
Our Dear Own John Ronald: Riddles
Alive without breath, / As cold as death, /Never thirsty, ever drinking, /All in mail, never clinking.
Our Own Dear John Ronald: Doom
And Doom fell on Tinúviel...
And long ago they passed away / In the forest singing sorrowless.