Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow
07/25/2018
Hobbits on that good-good southfarling leaf are too busy hustling tips to pay off student loans to care.
William
07/25/2018
For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings;
How some have been deposed; some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
Some poison’d by their wives: some sleeping kill’d;
All murder’d: for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be fear’d and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable, and humour’d thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
(Richard II, 3.2.1565-1580)
That’s right: Treebeard was really pissed about the tower Sauromon built. . .
Don’t up-vote that comment. Saruman didn’t build Orthanc, the Numenoreans did. Someone didn’t do the reading assignment.
Correct. Saruman just built the wall.
Wait, I thought the white city was surrounded by 7 walls?
Also, LOTR is a memetic gold mine:
http://esau.today/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/18765918_1472607292759316_5525259368192787969_n.png
http://i.magaimg.net/img/o09.jpg
https://i.4pcdn.org/pol/1496190914884.png
Hobbits on that good-good southfarling leaf are too busy hustling tips to pay off student loans to care.
For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings;
How some have been deposed; some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
Some poison’d by their wives: some sleeping kill’d;
All murder’d: for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be fear’d and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable, and humour’d thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
(Richard II, 3.2.1565-1580)