J. R. R. Tolkien Quotes

Whenever it gets a little cold in L.A., it gives me an excuse to light my fireplace. You could stare at that joint for, like, a cool two hours. It's entrancing.

I am happiest when I'm sitting on my parent's couch with the fire place on and talking to my family.

I have a fireplace in my kitchen that I light every night, no matter what.

I don't know why, but the warmth and the comfort of flickering light help. And a fire, in the fireplace or on the beach, is very comforting. I think when you make something consistent and familiar, it helps. I light candles every single night in my home.

A house with no fireplace is a house without a heart.

The lamps are lit, the fires burn bright. The house is full of life and light.

Nothing smelled so good or danced so well as a birch fire.

I wish I was at home in my nice hole by the fire, with the kettle just beginning to sing!

A clear fire, a clean hearth, and the rigour of the game.

Like when you sit in front of a fire in winter — you are just there in front of the fire. You don't have to be smart or anything. The fire warms you.

Dispel the cold, bounteously replenishing the hearth with logs.

For me, there's nothing better than curling up in my favorite blanket on a cloudy or rainy day and just knit. Especially in front of the fireplace.

Once upon a time there was a piece of wood. It was not an expensive piece of wood. Far from it. Just a common block of firewood, one of those thick, solid logs that are put on the fire in winter to make cold rooms cozy and warm.

Books that you carry to the fire, and hold readily in your hand, are most useful after all.

A plate of apples, an open fire, and a jolly good book are a fair substitute for heaven.

You don't have to be smart or anything. The fire warms you.

Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.

Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home. It is no season in which to wander the world as if one were the wind blowing aimlessly along the streets without a place to rest, without food, and without time meaning anything to one, just as time means nothing to the wind.

I lingered most about the fireplace, as the most vital part of the house.

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa around, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in

Remember, gentlemen, what a Roman emperor said: The corpse of an enemy always smells sweet.

There is probably a smell of roasted chestnuts and other good comfortable things all the time, for we are telling Winter Stories - Ghost Stories, or more shame for us - round the Christmas fire; and we have never stirred, except to draw a little nearer to it.

But my memories are like a fire in winter—whenever I'm cold I can warm my hands at them. —Ditta

I just want to be warm. Just once let me be warm. Is there no star capable of sharing its fire with me? (Zarek)

the sweet heavy smell grew very much less. For though the whole fire had not been put out, a good bit of it had, and what remained smelled very largely of burnt Marsh-wiggle, which is not at all an enchanting smell.