I Have Always Thought Of Christmas Time...

Love, Though Said To Be Afflicted With Blindness, Is A Vigilant Watchman.

I Feel An Earnest And Humble Desire, And Shall Do Till I Die, To Increase The Stock Of Harmless Cheerfulness.

For The Night-wind Has A Dismal Trick Of Wandering Round And Round A Building Of That Sort, And Moaning As It Goes; And Of Trying, With Its Unseen Hand, The Windows And The Doors; And Seeking Out Some Crevices By Which To Enter.

Darkness Is Cheap, And Scrooge Liked It.

It Was A Good Thing To Have A Couple Of Thousand People All Rigid And Frozen Together, In The Palm Of One's Hand.