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Quote by Jayita Bhattacharjee

“The mist of memories.....as birdsongs fill the air...the scent of daffodils...rises on earth....and just when you think you have it all....it begins to thunder.....could this be the startling truth of all.....”

Quote by Jayita Bhattacharjee

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Jayita Bhattacharjee

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“Ohhhhhhhhhh The King’s hair is quite fair, And his smile’s all there. Yet beside of all this, The King has no heir! Foooooooooor The King is not there, down there. No the King is not there, down there. Aaaaaaaaaaaaall The maids are so pretty, And some even witty! But still no heir is there, And say so my ditty! The King is not there, down there. No the King is not there, down there. Sooooooooooo Don’t hang your brother, For the sake of your mother! Cuz we’ve still no heir to spare, Unless she whelped another! Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy The king is not there, down there. No, the King is not there, down there.”

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Book:Gearpox
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“Over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away ere break of day To seek the pale enchanted gold. The dwarves of yore made mighty spells, While hammers fell like ringing bells In places deep, where dark things sleep, In hallows halls beneath the fells. For ancient kind and elvish lord There many a gleaming golden hoard They shaped and wrought, and light they caught To hide in gems on hilt of sword. On silver necklaces they strung The flowering stars, on crowns they hung The dragon-fire, in twisted wire They meshed the light of moon and sun. Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away, ere break of day, To claim our long-forgotten gold. Goblets they carved there for themselves And harps of gold; where no man delves There lay they long, and many a song Was sung unheard by men or elves. The pines were roaring on the height, The winds were moaning in the night. The fire was red, it flaming spread; The trees like torches blazed with light. The bells were ringing in the dale And men looked up with faces pale; The dragon's ire more fierce than fire Laid low their towers and houses frail. The mountain smoked beneath the moon; The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom. They fled their hall to dying fall Beneath his feet, beneath the moon. For over the misty mountains grim To dungeons deep and caverns dim We must away, ere break of day , To win our harps and gold from him!”

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Book:The Hobbit, or There and Back Again
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“Some people’s aim is to take credit for closing certain doors for you, but what they do not know is that they cannot close all doors. While they close some doors, others will open.”

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Book:Beyond the Closed Door: Unique Keys to Unlock Destinies
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