“In the evening they went to say good-bye to Bilbo. 'Well, if you must go, you must,' he said. 'I am sorry. I shall miss you. It is nice just to know that you are about the place. But I am getting very sleepy.' Then he gave Frodo his mithril-coat and Sting, forgetting that he had already done so; and he gave him also three books of lore that he had made at various times, written in his spidery hand, and labelled on their red backs: Translations from the Elvish, by B. B.”

“I smashed his hand as hard as I could with the Wiffle bat."Ow!" he screamed.Carson was rubbing his red palm, inspecting it for damage. "That hurt," he shrieked. "You really hurt me.""Right back at you," I said. "Good-bye Carson."He frowned, massaging his hand, the big baby. "I just wanted to end this nicely.""Yeah?" I cocked the bat up to hit him again. "Well, this time you don't get what you want.”

“But this is terrible!" cried Frodo. "Far worse than the worst that I imagined from your hints and warnings. O Gandalf, best of friends, what am I to do? For now I am really afraid. What am I to do? What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance!""Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need. And he has been well rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership of the Ring so. With Pity.""I am sorry," said Frodo. "But I am frightened; and I do not feel any pity for Gollum.”

“Heart, we will forget him,You and I, tonight!You must forget the warmth he gave,I will forget the light.”

“I am sorry,' he whispers. 'I am sorry I treated you so ill. I thought only to protect Duval.''It was not I who was poisoning him,' I say.'No, but you had stolen his heart and I was afraid you would rip it from his chest when you left.”

“I was about to tell him he was wrong to dwell on it, because it really didn't matter. But he cut me off and urged me one last time, drawing himself up to his full height and asking me if I believed in God. I said no. He sat down indignantly. He said it was impossible; all men believed in God, even those who turn their backs on him. That was his belief, and if he were ever to doubt it, his life would become meaningless. "Do you want my life to be meaningless?" he shouted. As far as I could see, it didn't have anything to do with me, and I told him so. But from across the table he had already thrust the crucifix in my face and was screaming irrationally, "I am a Christian. I ask Him to forgive you for sins. How can you not believe that He suffered for you?" I was struck by how sincere he seemed, but I had had enough. It was getting hotter and hotter. As always, whenever I want to get rid of someone I'm not really listening to, I made it appear as if I agreed. To my surprise, he acted triumphant. "You see, you see!" he said. "You do believe, don't you, and you're going to place your trust in Him, aren't you?" Obviously, I again said no. He fell back in his chair.”