Merry Christmas Eve Quotes

It was Christmas night, the eve of the Boxing Day Meet. You must remember that this was in the old Merry England of Gramarye, when the rosy barons ate with their fingers, and had peacocks served before them with all their tail feathers streaming, or boars' heads with the tusks stuck in again—when there was no unemployment because there were too few people to be unemployed—when the forests rang with knights walloping each other on the helm, and the unicorns in the wintry moonlight stamped with their silver feet and snorted their noble breaths of blue upon the frozen air. Such marvels were great and comfortable ones. But in the Old England there was a greater marvel still. The weather behaved itself.

As I sat there, the town clock struck twelve, and the sound reminded me of the legend, which affirms that all dumb animals are endowed with speech for one hour after midnight on Christmas Eve, in memory of the animals who lingered near the manger when the blessed Christ Child was born.

The Merry Chrismouse by Stewart Stafford What a time for the merry Chrismouse, Making toys in his workshop/house, Everyone contributes, even his spouse, With Christmas cheer, no one will douse. A sprig of holly for a present tree, Blizzard snow is grated cheese, The kindly rodent set to please, When he comes on Christmas Eve. Nuts and seeds on their button table, Playing games and telling fables, Discarded tinsel on the wall of gable, In midwinter's icy spell unstable. A time for amnesia that felines exist, Kindness and joy at their fingertips, Baby mice excitedly make lists, To have many gifts when they insist. © Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.

Christmas Sonnet Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, Oh, what fun it is to give our own life away! Saint Nicholas did his part, so did Chris himself, Now it's time for us to be the happiness gateway. Dashing through the alleys devoid of lights, Holding up high as beacon, our own heart, Breaking ourselves to pieces and burning to ashes, We'll ensure no one lacks the love a human deserves. We are Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen and Comet, We are Cupid, Donner, Blitzen and Rudolph. We are also modern day Nick, Chris and Eckhart, By our love and oneness let the world be engulfed! Twelve days ain't enough to celebrate Christmas. As humans we must live each day helping others.

Ho, ho, ho". Santa boomed in a deep voice. "Merry Christmas, young lady." "Merry Christmas." I frowned. "I don't think I've been good this year, Santa." "No, ho, ho?" I scuffed my shoe along the pavement and ducked my head to avoid this gaze. "I was a jerk to my boyfriend. Maybe I'm still just as insecure and controlling as ever." Santa scratched at his beard and studied me with his dark brown eyes. "Maybe being willing to admit you were wrong and apologizing means you've grown more than you think." He paused, then added, "Ho ho ho." "Do you think he'll forgive me me?" I asked. Zac pulled the white beard and Santa hat off. "It is Christmas Eve. Miracles do happen.

Something hard and brittle glittered in Gabe Callahan’s eyes. He had a drink in his hand and danger oozed from his pores. Suddenly Nic felt more like Red Riding Hood than one of Santa’s elves. She licked her dry lips, then held out the package. “Merry Christmas.” When he didn’t move to take the gift, she set it down on the table beside the door and waited. A muscle jerked at his temple. Finally, just when she thought he’d never speak, he asked, “Why are you here?” She smelled the alcohol on his breath. She opened her mouth intending to invite him to Christmas Eve services, but as their gazes caught and held, different words emerged. “I didn’t want you to be alone,” she told him. “I don’t want to be alone. It’s Christmas.” “Christmas,” he repeated after a long moment, the word sounding like a curse on his lips. His gaze never left hers as he tossed back the rest of his drink, then set the empty glass on top of the package she’d brought. “What Christmas is, woman, is hell.” He moved toward her and she instinctively backed away until the door was at her back. His voice sounded low and gruff and a little slurred as he added, “And I’m feeling like the damned devil himself.” Then he kissed her. His

Christmas Eve 2012 Continuation of my Message to Andy (part one)   Hi Loverboy,               I wish you a very Merry Yuletide, and I hope 2012 had been good to you. I’m back to tantalize you with my 1970 experience at OBSS. LOL!               Without further ado, this is how I remember the unfolding events.               Curious Kim was eager to find out what had transpired after Jules left our tent. I was pretty sure my tent-mate was gay. He, like me, had the hots for our handsome instructor.               Though I revised the story to that of Jules sticking his tongue into my mouth during my resuscitation process rather than the other way round, Kim found my narration titillating. He pressed me to tell him what it was like to kiss Jules.               I queried, “Why don’t you make a move on him to find out?”               He was shocked by my suggestion and exclaimed, “I would never do such a thing!”               “Why not?”               “Because… because I’m not that way inclined,” he said.               Although I did not press him to admit his homosexual tendencies, I asked, “Are you afraid of getting caught?”               He was taken aback by my boldness. He went silent before commiserating, “No one is a homosexual in Singapore, let alone at the Outward Bound School.”               I burst out in laughter. “Are you kidding me? What planet do you come from?”               The Eurasian added, “It’s illegal to be a homosexual in this country.”               I challenged, “Just because the government ruled against homosexuality doesn’t mean gay people don’t exist.”               He looked around conspicuously before he countered, “If you say these kinds of things, you’ll be expelled.”               “Are you telling me you don’t fancy our instructor?” I pressed.               As if I had cornered him, he stammered, “I… er… like him. He’s my teacher. Of course I like him.”               “You don’t get aroused when he’s close to you?” I exerted.

I know that many people including our President insist that it be called the Christmas Season. I’ll be the first in line to say that it works for me however that’s not what it is. We hint at its coming on Halloween when the little tykes take over wandering the neighborhood begging for candy and coins. In this day and age the idea of children wandering the streets threatening people with “Trick or Treat!” just isn’t a good idea. In most cases parents go with them encouraging their offspring’s to politely ask “Anything for Halloween.” An added layer of security occurs when the children are herded into one room to party with friends. It’s all good, safe fun and usually there is enough candy for all of their teeth to rot before they have a chance to grow new ones. Forgotten is the concept that it is a three day observance of those that have passed before us and are considered saints or martyrs. Next we celebrate Thanksgiving, a national holiday (holly day) formally observed in Canada, Liberia, Germany Japan, some countries in the Caribbean and the United States. Most of these countries observe days other than the fourth Thursday of November and think of it as a secular way of celebrating the harvest and abundance of food. Without a hiccup we slide into Black Friday raiding stores for the loot being sold at discounted prices. The same holds true for Cyber Monday when we burn up the internet looking for bargains that will arrive at our doorsteps, brought by the jolly delivery men and women, of FedEx, UPS and USPS. Of course the big days are Chanukah when the Maccabean Revolt against the Seleucid Empire, regained control of Jerusalem. It is a time to gather the family and talk of history and tell stories. Christmas Eve is a time when my family goes to church, mostly to sing carols and distribute gifts, although this usually continued on Christmas day. This is when the term “Merry Christmas” is justified and correct although it is thought that the actual birthday of Christ is in October. The English squeezed another day out of the season, called Boxing Day, which is when the servants got some scraps from the dinner the day before and received a small gift or a dash of money. I do agree that “Xmas” is inappropriate but that’s just me and I don’t go crazy over it. After all, Christmas is for everyone. On the evening of the last day of the year we celebrate New Year’s Evening followed by New Year’s Day which many people sleep through after New Year’s Eve. The last and final day of the Holiday Season is January 6th which Is Epiphany or Three Kings Day. In Tarpon Springs, the Greek Orthodox Priest starts the celebration with the sanctification of the waters followed by the immersion of the cross. It becomes a scramble when local teenage boys dive for the cross thrown into the Spring Bayou as a remembrance of the baptism of Jesus Christ in the Jordan River. This tradition is now over a century old and was first celebrated by the Episcopal Church by early settlers in 1903.

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, Oh, what fun it is to give our own life away! Saint Nicholas did his part, so did Chris himself, Now it's time for us to be the happiness gateway.

Twelve days ain't enough to celebrate Christmas. as humans we must live each day helping others.

There’s more riding on this particular Christmas than ever before, and I’m coming apart at the seams. I need you to find my stolen property before Christmas Eve, or there’ll be no joy to the world, no ho-ho-ho, no holly jolly, no Feliz in the Navidad, no Frohe in the Weihnachten, no Merry in the Christmas.

IT WAS CHRISTMAS night, the eve of the Boxing Day Meet. You must remember that this was in the old Merry England of Gramarye, when the rosy barons ate with their fingers, and had peacocks served before them with all their tail feathers streaming, or boars’ heads with the tusks stuck in again—when there was no unemployment because there were too few people to be unemployed—when the forests rang with knights walloping each other on the helm, and the unicorns in the wintry moonlight stamped with their silver feet and snorted their noble breaths of blue upon the frozen air. Such marvels were great and comfortable ones. But in the Old England there was a greater marvel still. The weather behaved itself. In the spring, the little flowers came out obediently in the meads, and the dew sparkled, and the birds sang. In the summer it was beautifully hot for no less than four months, and, if it did rain just enough for agricultural purposes, they managed to arrange it so that it rained while you were in bed. In the autumn the leaves flamed and rattled before the west winds, tempering their sad adieu with glory. And in the winter, which was confined by statute to two months, the snow lay evenly, three feet thick, but never turned into slush.

How do you usually celebrate Christmas, cousin?” He hesitated before replying, seeming to ponder whether to answer truthfully. Honesty won out. “On Christmas Day I visit friends in a parasitical fashion, going from house to house and drinking until I finally fall unconscious in someone’s parlor. Then someone pours me into a carriage and sends me home, and my servants put me to bed.” “That doesn’t sound very merry,” Cassandra said. “Beginning this year,” Devon said, “I intend for us all to do the holiday justice. In fact, I’ve invited a friend to share Christmas with us at Eversby Priory.” The table fell silent, everyone staring at him in collective surprise. “Who?” Kathleen asked suspiciously. For his sake, she hoped it wasn’t one of those railway men plotting to destroy tenant farms. “Mr. Winterborne himself.” Amid the girls’ gasping and squealing, Kathleen scowled at Devon. Damn him, he knew it wasn’t right to invite a stranger to a house of mourning. “The owner of a department store?” she asked. “No doubt accompanied by a crowd of fashionable friends and hangers-on? My lord, surely you haven’t forgotten that we’re all in mourning!” “How could I?” he parried with a pointed glance that incensed her. “Winterborne will come alone, as a matter of fact. I doubt it will burden my household unduly to set one extra plate at the table on Christmas Eve.” “A gentleman of Mr. Winterborne’s influence must already have a thousand invitations for the holiday. Why must he come here?” Devon’s eyes glinted with enjoyment at her barely contained fury. “Winterborne is a private man. I suppose the idea of a quiet holiday in the country appeals to him. For his sake, I would like to have a proper Christmas feast. And perhaps a few carols could be sung.” The girls chimed in at once. “Oh, do say yes, Kathleen!” “That would be splendicious!” Even Helen murmured something to the effect that she couldn’t see how it would do any harm. “Why stop there?” Kathleen asked sarcastically, giving Devon a look of open animosity. “Why not have musicians and dancing, and a great tall tree lit with candles?” “What excellent suggestions,” came Devon’s silky reply. “Yes, let’s have all of that.” Infuriated to the point of speechlessness, Kathleen glared at him while Helen discreetly pried the butter knife from her clenched fingers.

Merry Christmas Eve.” She smiled at me as if she hadn’t just tried to suck my soul out.