All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost; the old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost.
If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.
Not all those who wander are lost.
Still round the corner there may wait, A new road or a secret gate.
You have been chosen, and you must therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have.