A fiction writer is never entirely alone. Her characters are constantly whispering in her ear. Writing is not a social endeavor. It requires solitude - a meeting between you and your characters on their turf. Some of us can find solitude in a crowded café or the local mall. And none at home.
The Hobbit; or, There and Back Again Tolkien, J.R.R. Houghton Mifflin, Boston, date ?
With 6 full-page black & white illustrations by the author. 18.5x12.5 cm. (7¼x5”), green cloth, color pictorial jacket designed by the author.
Signed by J.R.R. Tolkien on color plate from a drawing by him of The Hill, Hobbiton, inserted before the half-title; likely it is from another copy, being slightly taller and a bit narrow than the text block. The jacket states Fourteenth Impression. Any copies of The Hobbit signed by Tolkien are quite scarce. ____________________________________________ “Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away ere break of day To seek the pale enchanted gold.”
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.
Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Or, Life in the Woods (@kingofthesavages)