Christmas is the season when you buy this year's gifts with next year's money.
War toys are scary. They have a rocket launcher with a bayonet attached, in case you miss.
I think one of the finest gifts I can give my friends in the holiday season is to pause with a long enough quality to actually SEE them. My calm, unhurried presence communicates this gift of a message, "I see you. I recognize you. I remember our times of together and am contributing right now to another quality memory. I value you and honor and take the time, right this moment to pause long enough to truly notice you."
A scientist said, making a plea for exchange scholarships between nations, "The best way to send an idea is to wrap it up in a person." That was what happened at Christmas. The idea of divine love was wrapped up in a person.
Ugster vinyl pumps, Partridge Family records, plastic daisy jewelry, old postcards. . . . It's a magpie Christmas market.
The Christmas tree, twinkling with lights, had a mountain of gifts piled up beneath it, like offerings to the great god of excess.
I deciced if I were ever to get into booze and women, my line would be, 'Excuse me, madam, but I would really love to bed and muss you. . . . Are you perchance free this evening?
It struck him that how you spent Christmas was a message to the world about where you were in life, some indication of how deep a hole you had managed to burrow for yourself
The great man is he who does not lose his child's heart.
I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas.
Be careful with drinking this Christmas. I got so drunk last night I found myself dancing in a cheesy bar... Or, as you like to call it, delicatessen.
Two thousand years ago, the Holy family had a ramble from Nazareth to Bethlehem - in much the same way as I'm having a ramble from Norwich to Swaffham. Although I'm not comparing myself to Jesus - I don't want to get bogged down in that whole controversy again.
Santa Claus wears a Red Suit, he must be a communist. And a beard and long hair, must be a pacifist. What's in that pipe that he's smoking?
If God would grant us the vision, the word sacrifice would disappear from our lips and thoughts; we would hate the things that seem now so dear to us; our lives would suddenly be too short, we would despise time-robbing distractions and charge the enemy with all our energies in the name of Christ. May God help us ourselves by the eternities that separate the Aucas from a Comprehension of Christmas and Him, who, though he was rich, yet for our sakes became poor so that we might, through his poverty, be made rich.
Christmas can be the end of emptiness and waywardness; The beginning of happiness and purposefulness.
Christmas is a good time to take stock of our blessings.
Christmas is a mood, a quality, a symbol. It is never merely a fact.
On Christmas morning, our joy or our happiness can be at a very high level, not because of our anticipation of what we might receive but, rather, in anticipation of watching our loved ones open our gifts to them. In fact, if we're not careful, we can fail to register sufficient excitement and joy upon opening the gifts we receive from others. We must remember that they are happiest at that time and to give them top billing, to stretch their happiness to its full length.
So stick up ivy and the bays, and then restore the heathen ways, green will remind you of the Spring, though this great day denies the thing, and mortifies the earth, and all, but your wild revels, and loose hall.
If I were a medical man, I should prescribe a holiday to any patient who considered his work important.
On the whole, I prefer Christmas as an adult than I did as a child.
I've been playing on Christmas for the last 10, 11, 12 years. So just got to get up early with the babies, and give them their toys and try to get a nap in and just come to play.
We three kings of Orient are. Bearing gifts we traverse afar. Field and fountain, moor and mountain. Following yonder star.
There are a lot of Grinches out there that would like nothing better than to take any references to religion out of the holiday season.
A woman spent all Christmas Day in a telephone box without ringing anyone. If someone comes to phone, she leaves the box, then resumes her place afterwards. No one calls her either, but from a window in the street, someone watched her all day, no doubt since they had nothing better to do. The Christmas syndrome.
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