Writing

I write because of this man.

Recognize him? That would be J. R. R. Tolkien.

I still have this memorized:

“In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an ozzy smell. Nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat. It was a Hobbit hole, and that means comfort.”

I probably messed up some of the punctuation, but still. My geek card is intact.