The Hobbit

by J.R.R. Tolkien

Bilbo rushed along the passage, very angry, and altogether bewildered and bewuthered—this was the most awkward Wednesday he ever remembered.

“You’re a booby,” said William. “Booby yerself!” said Tom.

the fire had now sunk to a few embers; the dwarves and Gandalf were all asleep, to judge by their breathing; a splash of white on the floor came from the high moon, which was peering down through the smoke-hole in the roof.

he dreamed a dream of hundreds of black bears dancing slow heavy dances round and round in the moonlight in the courtyard.

“I will give you a name,” he said to it, “and I shall call you Sting.”

Quite apart from the stones no spider has ever liked being called Attercop, and Tomnoddy of course is insulting to anybody.

It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him.

If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.