Christmas Wish List Quotes

I’m so glad I put a hot, naked guy on my Christmas wish list. I just didn’t think Santa would actually deliver one.

A wish is many things. It is hope and desire and daydreams. It is impossibility and improbability and something in between. It is stardust and well water and spectrums of light in the sky. It is half-melted birthday candles and Christmas lists. It is broken turkey bones, It is the willing suspension of disbelief. And sometimes it is desperation. It is a hole in your heart that wants filling. It is more-than-anything-in-the-world.

You just let that pretty filly go?” Vim looked up, and Rothgreb could see him trying to balance respect for his elder with the urge to throttle an interfering old busybody. “She refused my suit on more than one occasion, Uncle. I don’t suppose you’ve made a list of all the things that have gone missing?” “Refused your suit! Did you go down on bended knee? Shower her with compliments and pretty baubles? Did you slay dragons for her and ride through drenching thunderstorms?” “I changed dirty nappies for her, got up and down all night with the child, and offered her the rest of my life.” “Dirty nappies? Bah! In my day, we knew how to court a woman.” This provoked a sardonic smile. “In your day, you married for convenience and were free to chase any panniered skirt that caught your eye.” “Little you know.” Rothgreb tossed his spectacles on the desk. “Your aunt would have had my parts fed to the hogs if I’d done more than the requisite flirting with the dowagers. And she knew better than to share her favors elsewhere too, b’gad.” “About

At the beginning of the month I wrote a letter to Santa—I know, childish—but I needed something to hope for, even if it felt silly.” He smiled and shifted to sit by my side, winding his arm around my wait. “Wishing and hoping is never silly, Harper,” he whispered, nipping my jaw. I leaned into his hold and twined our fingers. “I had two things on it: you, and to be accepted.” I stared at the black ink marking my letter in my messy handwriting. He pressed his forehead against my temple. “You were on mine too, only, I didn’t send it to Santa.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Jenny realized Elijah Harrison knew a great deal that she wished she could learn from him. He’d travel on in the morning, but for as much as the next hour, she could interrogate him to her heart’s content. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he put bread, cheese, and some apple slices on a plate and held it out to her. His gaze held a challenge. Over a simple meal? Abruptly, Jenny wondered if he’d recognized her. She took the plate and tossed her list of questions aside. ***

Sensible. He’d said she was sensible. Not lovely, intelligent, dear, attractive, or capable of mad, passionate love. Not even an adequate cook, for goodness sake. Sensible. She added Vim to the list of men narrowly escaping bodily injury. “I

A Christmas Truce What would I like for Christmas? A close friend wants to know. Perfume? A clock? A spa day? Some tickets for a show? ‘I need ideas by Monday,’ She huffs, as if I’m not Sufficiently respectful Of her present-buying slot, Which will expire by Tuesday, Her harried tone implies. Art books? Posh wine? New teapot? Brainstorm! Prioritise! What do I want for Christmas? I want you not to ask. I’d rather get no gifts at all Than be assigned the task Of emailing a wish list (One I must first create) To all my friends and family Before a certain date. Can I propose a Christmas truce To make my dreams come true? Create no work for me and I’ll Create no work for you. I’ve got enough possessions – Shoes, coats, a diamond ring – I want not to be asked to do A time-consuming thing. Yes, that’s a proper present – Abstract, but no less real. What do you mean it seems as if I don’t care how you feel? ALL RIGHT! I’ll have a teapot. What? Then wrap it in a fleece. Yes, I will ring to say it got here Safely, in one piece.

The holiday was different this year. People’s hearts were heavy and their celebrations small. Families were separated, and as a result, the Christmas wishes made were not rooted in vengeance and retribution, leading to his own unfortunate reversal of fortune and no promise things would improve next year.

There’s no right or wrong way, and you need to go at your pace. All that gay shit you see on Instagram is fake and unrealistic, and don’t even get me started on porn.

The road to finding yourself isn’t always paved perfectly.

Beginnings and endings are all right, but it’s what happens in between that really counts, isn’t it

I did find that I remembered who delivered, and who did not, and while I have not trimmed the Christmas card list as a result, I have, without conscious decision, resolved to spend what limited resources of time and attention I have on people who wish to return them in roughly the same proportion.

Coming “Look! Look at that!” cried Andrew. “That is what I want for Christmas!” Andrew is my little brother. He isn’t even five yet. I am Karen Brewer and I am seven years old. I have freckles and wear glasses. My hair is blonde and my eyes are blue. Christmas is my favorite time of year. Andrew was pointing to something on TV. It was a commercial for Dyno-cars. Dyno-cars are little racing cars that explode when they run into a wall or something. Then you put them back together so you can explode them again. “Remember to put Dyno-cars on your list for Santa,” I told Andrew. “I will,” he replied. Andrew and I were at home. It was a school-day afternoon. In fact, it was almost suppertime. We were coloring pictures about Christmas. I was coloring a tree with presents under it. Andrew was trying to make a Santa. “Christmas is coming,” I sang as I worked, “the geese are getting fat; Please to put a penny in the old man’s hat; If you haven’t a penny, a ha’penny will do; If you haven’t got a ha’penny, God bless you.” “You know what?” said Andrew, looking up from his picture. “What?” I asked. “I don’t understand that song. What is a ha’penny?” “I’m not sure,” I replied. “Let’s sing a song we both know,” said Andrew. So we sang “Jingle Bells.” First we sang it the regular way. Then we sang, “Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg. Bat-mobile lost a wheel, and Commissioner broke his leg.” We giggled. But I stopped suddenly. Another commercial had come on TV. “There! That’s what I want!” I exclaimed. “Baby Grow-a-Tooth!” The next commercial was for an art kit. With the kit you could decorate hats and make badges. Both Andrew and I cried, “I want that!” Then I said, “Boy, it sure is hard waiting for Christmas.” “I know,” Andrew answered. “How many days, Karen?