Xmas Quotes

Money's scarce Times are hard Here's your fucking Xmas card

Two things happened on Christmas Day. My father texted me to wish me a "Merry Xmas." Xmas. Couldn't even type out Christmas. So personal. Love you too, Dad.

There must be something ghostly in the air of Christmas — something about the close, muggy atmosphere that draws up the ghosts, like the dampness of the summer rains brings out the frogs and snails.

I had never before been a special fan of that great comedian Phyllis Diller, but she utterly won my heart this week by sending me an envelope that, when opened, contained a torn-off square of brown-bag paper of the kind suitable for latrine duty in an ill-run correctional facility. Duly unfurled, it carried a handwritten salutation reading as follows: Money's scarce Times are hard Here's your f****** Xmas card I could not possibly improve on the sentiment, but I don't think it ought to depend on the current austerities. Isn't Christmas a moral and aesthetic nightmare whether or not the days are prosperous?

wow it was sad the break up thing in xmas but in the end they got back together but the father soo hush to the children

There are women that men marry and there are women that men don't," Anne pronouned. "And you are the sort of mistress a man doesn't bother to marry. Sons or no sons." "Yes," Mary said. "I expect your right. But there clearly is a third sort and that is the woman that men neither marry or take as their mistress. Woman that go home ...alone for Xmas. And thats seems to be you my dear sister. Good day.

I have loved you from the moment I heard your voice. Thank you for coming here, and being my Christmas miracle.

My phone buzzes, and I shut off YouTube so I can access my messages. Logan: Just found the perfect xmas present for you in Boston. A photo promptly appears, summoning a loud groan from my throat. The asshole sent me a pic of a novelty My Little Pony dildo. Damn thing is bright pink, with rainbow sparkles on the handle. Logan: And it’s rechargeable! U don’t have to buy batteries. THAT’S handy! Me: Hardy-har-har. You = comedian. Then I message Grace: Tell your BF to stop being mean to me. She texts back a smiley face. Traitor.

Kelly?” Owen called, “You want breakfast?” “Does Gabe have pants on yet?” “I’m on it,” Gabe promised. “Then yeah.

Girl ... you're seriously crackin' a moisty right now, aren't you?

Her mind was blank and her heart and body ruled. And those? They were his property.

We’re just a bunch of regular guys who happen to make music that a lot of people enjoy.” “You’re also all fuck-hot

The scientific creation story has majesty, power and beauty. and is infused with a powerful message capable of lifting our spirits in a way that its multitudinous supernatural counterparts are incapable of matching. It teaches us that we are the products of 13.7 billion years of cosmic evolution and the mechanism by which meaning entered the universe, if only for a fleeting moment in time. Because the universe means something to me, and the fact that we are all agglomerations of quarks and electrons in a complex and fragile pattern that can perceive the beauty of the universe with visceral wonder, is, I think, a thought worth raising a glass to this Christmas.

You’re no damsel-in-distress. If you were, you wouldn’t be the right woman for me. I like my heroines with backbone and bite.

Slowly she surveyed her surroundings and took in the tiny gold lights glinting in every store window and the twin glass elevators decked in red and green bows. A banner hung from the second floor balcony, declaring ONLY SEVEN MORE SHOPPING DAYS TILL XMAS!

One lives too long. Happy X-mas.

X is for X-mas Concentrate your energies, your thoughts and your capital. Put all your eggs in one basket and then watch that basket, then all your Christmases can come at once!

Christmas is the spirit of love, peace and goodwill to all Humankind. It is within the reach of every heart and hand.

There is no more dangerous or disgusting habit than that of celebrating Christmas before it comes.

Colour GLOWS, Mind FLOWS Bird FLY. Love SPREADS, And we Celebrate Joy, Love & Smile. Have a Happy Bright Merry Christmas to Ü & All

Father xmas is like the love from a prostitute, it doesn’t exist and it makes you spend loads of money.

Sandwiches have nothing of a xmas meal, they just feed your impatience.

Merry Xmas. Merry Christmas to you, too, Fetch,

My parents aren't hippies. I'm North as in the North Pole. Unfortunately. My brother is Nicholas, and my sister is Noelle. Wow. God. That's About a hundred times worse than your name. I was going to say devoted. Festively devoted.

THE CHRISTIAN ALPHABETS A = AMEN B = BAPTISM C = CHRISTIAN D = DISCIPLE F = FELLOWSHIP G = GOD H = HOLY SPIRIT I = INSPIRATION J = JESUS CHRIST K = KINGDOM L = LOVE M = MODERATION N = NEW BIRTH O = OBEDIENCE P = PRAYER Q = QUIET TIME R = RIGHTEOUSNESS S = SALVATION T = TESTIMONY U = UNDERSTANDING V = VISION W = WISDOM X = XMAS Y = YEA & AMEN Z = ZION BY : ADEWALE OSUNSAKIN

Every muscle in his body tensed for action, adrenalin pounding through his tiny veins, he crept down the stairs, keeping to the corners (where he knew they creaked less). He peered around the bottom of the stairwell into the living room, and there he saw a lean, bearded man, clad only in a loincloth and a crown of thorns. When he bent over the Xmas tree, Tony saw that blood flowed freely from his bare hands and feet. Before the cherubic prepubescent could stop himself, the words flew out of his mouth: “You’re not Santa!

Isabelle glanced quizzically toward the bar entrance. The red-haired girl was smiling. Jace wondered if Isabelle saw her. There was something about her. It was like looking at something bright. Not just her hair, the color of it, but a brightness that seemed to come from inside her.

March 29: Marilyn writes to Lester Markel at the New York Times. She likes the Sunday piece on playwright Sean O’Casey. She provides her assessment of various contenders for the presidency, including Rockefeller, Humphrey, Nixon, Stevenson, William O. Douglas, and Kennedy. She considers Rockefeller “more liberal than many of the Democrats,” and declares that Stevenson “might have made it if he had been able to talk to people instead of professors.” Nixon has no soul. Douglas is ideal, but his divorce is an impediment. She is disappointed with the Times’s coverage of Castro and feels the United States should support and develop democracy. She includes some political slogans: “Nix on Nixon,” “Over the hump with Humphrey (?),” “Stymied with Symington,” “Back to Boston by Xmas—Kennedy.

At school, my religious-education teacher expressly forbade us to write "Xmas." It was regarded as a foul blasphemy. How would I like it if people used an anonymous X in place of my name? However, it would seem that the word "Xmas" is not blasphemous after all. In the original Greek, "Christ" was written "Xristos," but the X isn't the Roman "ecks"; The Cassell Dictionary of Word Histories explains that it is the Greek letter "chi" (pronounced with a k to rhyme with "eye"--k'eye). The x is simply a stand-in for "the first letter of Greek Khristos--Christ." Indeed, the Chi-Rho (CH-r--the first two syllables of "Christ") illumination can be seen in the ancient Irish manuscript of the Gospels, The Book of Kells, which is housed at Trinity College in Dublin. This work dates back to the ninth century. Of course, strictly speaking, Xmas" should still be pronounced "Christmas" because it's an abbreviation, not an alternative word.

We could probably go in without invisibility glamours,” said Isabelle, craning her neck to look down the street. “Half these people have more tattoos than we do.” “But none of them are nearly as attractive.” Jace narrowed his eyes as his Farsight rune took effect, following Isabelle’s gaze. Halfway up the line he saw a flash of something bright. Red hair. A girl with bright red hair was standing in line next to a dark-haired boy who was gesturing animatedly. “Well,” he amended. “Almost none of them.

Season's Greetings by Stewart Stafford Season's Greetings To those we are needing, While I am leading The Festive charge. Christmas love is fleeting, The snow is sleeting, And there's every chance of feeling, A thaw in my cold heart. Season's Greetings everywhere, Let War cease and all be fair, A heart that's full of Christmas cheer, Bravely faces the New Year. And so, we feast and celebrate, For those we've lost, we contemplate, Christmas is an emotional stocktake, Of those still here and those that are late. The year winds down to that last date, Resolutions tempting fate, New Fear's Eve, many hate, And choose to socially-isolate. Season's Greetings while you can, To every woman, child, and man, Season's Greetings, don't you wait Hold back now, and it's too late. And in the end, all we do, Is create memories for the few, Who mattered while we strode this earth, Then back to the place before our birth. Season's Greetings, decorations down, Bittersweet crunching sounds, Topple the tree to live again, Twelfth Night, the inevitable end. © Stewart Stafford, 2020. All rights reserved.

Anal is such a judgmental word. Unless, of course, you’re talking about sex then it’s the best word in the world. By the way, whenever you want to take our relationship to the next level, I’m all in.

.... chasing presents for the near future celebration, looking through what society has to offer and impose.

When we soften our thoughts and open our hearts to the coming season of Christmas, we make room for Jesus: in our kind gestures, our giving hands, a warm smile and peace extended to our neighbors. Christmas is the season for His perfect love.

Human's" are the Worst creation of the Creator/s or GOD '**if Exists'. The only reason behind all the effects & destruction in this planet. i.e Earth without, only 3 Generation of single Homosapiens life can be come to it's normal place, is enough for Mother Nature.

We could probably go in without invisibility glamours,” said Isabelle, craning her neck to look down the street. “Half these people have more tattoos than we do.” “But none of them are nearly as attractive.” Jace narrowed his eyes as his Farsight rune took effect, following Isabelle’s gaze. Halfway up the line he saw a flash of something bright. Red hair. A girl with bright red hair was standing in line next to a dark-haired boy who was gesturing animatedly. “Well,” he amended. “Almost none of them.

It was the girl with red hair and her friend. Jace stood up straight. The girl had taken her hair out of its ponytail and it spilled down over her shoulders, the color of a sunset. She was dancing with her eyes closed. And Jace felt something inside him stir at the way she moved, as if she had found her own circle of peace inside the chaos. She seemed sheltered by something he didn’t quite understand as she danced — and he had seen people dance and move with rare skill and amazing grace — with no sense of rhythm or practice. Jace rarely thought about mundanes. They were the people he was supposed to protect, but his father had never brought him up to think about them as anything but an undifferentiated mass of needs and wants. A need to be saved. A want to be ignorant. Never to know of the darkness that surrounded them, the things that moved in the shadows. He had never thought of them as carrying light themselves. But the girl with the red hair, there was a light around her.

Knock her out,” Alec muttered, under his breath. “Just . . . clonk her on the head with something." “Just go,” Jace said to the girl. “Get out of here, if you know what’s good for you.” But she only planted her feet harder. He could see the look in her eyes, like exclamation points: No! No!

If we can put our minds and hearts, all our differences can bond for greater joy. Pagan holiday, Jewish baby and Roman empire - the union of ideas, emotions and a reason to celebrate is the real story of Christmas day.

Well spotted,” said Isabelle. “Demon.” Demon? She couldn’t possibly be — “With the blue hair,” Alec said, putting his stele away, and Jace realized with a jolt that he’d missed the boy just in front of the redhead in line. He had blue hair that stuck up in spikes and piercings in his eyebrows. “Eidolon.” He tipped his head toward Jace. “Shall we?” Jace didn’t respond for a moment. The demon slipped into the club, and the bouncer stopped the girl with the red hair and her friend

And then Jace’s boredom exploded into a million pieces as the girl with the red hair stepped out from behind a pillar. "Stop!” she cried. “You can’t do this.” It was as if the ground had been yanked out from under Jace. He was barely aware that his blade had clattered to the ground.

What’s this?” Alec said, looking baffled. “It’s a girl,” Jace said. He moved closer to the redhead, who stood with her feet braced apart, her hands on her hips, clearly with no intention of being scared away. He was vaguely aware of her loose shirt, unbuttoned over a tank top. Of the pulse at her throat and the rise of her breath. “A mundie girl,” he said. She was definitely, definitely not a demon. Her skin was lightly freckled, her eyes green mixed with gold. “And she can see us." “Of course I can see you,” she snapped. “I’m not blind.

You’re staring,” Alec said. His voice was clipped, disapproving. “At that girl. With the red hair.” "The one with the dark-haired friend?” Jace said. “I am not.” “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t know she had a dark-haired friend,” said Alec, who was terminally literal. “And besides, he’s probably her boyfriend." “He’s not,” Jace said immediately, and then realized he had no reason for assuming that, and also shouldn’t be speculating about the love lives of mundane

Just like every other demon. Jace felt a flicker of something — boredom? — as he reached for a seraph blade. All demons were the same: all the ones that could talk, anyway. They sputtered, they denied. They claimed they knew where Valentine was. They offered gold and gems, sometimes. Once one had offered naked dancing girls. Jace had almost taken that one up on the offer. It had been a slow Saturday. And then Jace’s boredom exploded into a million pieces as the girl with the red hair stepped out from behind a pillar

May the sacredness of Christmas gladden your heart.

Would people please stop telling me Santa Claus doesn't exist? I met him when I was a kid, surrounded by teenaged elves n stuff, one of them had a camera, and he was fun and smelt of fags n beer, I remember his big red nose too, even the hairs in his nostrils. You see I met him, sat on his lap chatted and he gave me a toy car, n yeah it was in a market, but I know he was the real Santa........

I wish you a blessed beautiful Christmas with the fullness of grace.

Christmas is holy celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. And God’s great love is the divinity of birth: the spirit of love, joy and hope.

Xmas all grown ups sa is the season for the kiddies but this do not prevent them from taking a tot or 2 from the bot and having, it may seme, a better time than us. For children in fact Xmas is often a bit of a strane wot with pretending that everything is a surprise. Above all father xmas is a strane. You canot so much as mention that there is no father xmas when some grown-up sa Hush not in front of wee tim. So far as i am concerned if father xmas use langwage like that when he tripped over the bolster last time we had beter get a replacement.

In Greek the name Christ is χριστός (christos). The first letter looks like the English letter X. Every vocation has its shorthand, and those in the church used the letter chi (χ) to represent Christ in words that began with “Christ-.” So “Xmas” is an honorable abbreviation for Christmas. It was not intended to take Christ out of Christmas

Back to the furniture. Sometime while the things were in storage someone helped themselves to 6 teaspoons and a tablespoon, 3 strings of Xmas tree lights and the metal ash tray we got from Raleigh cigarette coupons. I think it was a pretty low trick but we have no claim on things inside drawers because they weren’t listed on the contract.

People can be so damn cruel, and when they’ve moved on, you still have all the mean things they said to you catalogued in your head. It’s hard to forget it.

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.

christmas is a time for family and friends since when does know body care when you say merry xmas. people don't care about the other or the ones one the street but didn't god give everthing to give us a better life'. and to make the person we are. sometimes family forgets that we all are the same and that god loves us all no matter who we are and what we are .we may smoke' drink cuss but we are still there and are human. we may slip at times and forget who we are but we know that we are human and are family. we might not show it but we love and believe in who we are. but'' GOD put us here for something. was it to ignore 'everyone or to help each other. we live our lifes not caring about what is going on but yet we don't give a damm. christmas should not be the only time that we care about everyone. stop and think about it when was it that you told someone thank you when you was in the store or offered to help someone that didn't put you out of your way. or when did you forget to forgive and just say I LOVE YOU. did you really look at yourself. and look beyound that. what would the world be if knowbody cared and couldn't say thank you or that i love you. god bless everyone just stop and think. everyone has feelings and need to be loved

Thoughts On My End by Stewart Stafford My last moments slip away, On which day, at what time? Snow chilling bones faster? Sweat in blinding sunshine? Halloween, Xmas or Easter? Evening or just after dawn? Pass away on my birthday? Gifts, mass cards all drawn? Will it be in long, slow agony? Or mercifully fast and painless? What will my drug of choice be? Will I be conscious or brainless? Who will be at my bedside? Many or no one, who can say? Kind words or total silence? I’ll hear and be on my way. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

Have a Fiji Christmas in the sun.

i drive 160 on the freeway in the hopes of a fiery escape my major x-mas wish and like everyone else i get shit life on a razor’s edge words that kill and guns that don’t

Your smile is the only Christmas gift that I need this year.

Point Cook This Christmas

Don't let your "Ho! Ho! Ho!", "Go! Go! Go!" this year.

You don't need to be a kid to find happiness at Christmas time.

Let your "Ho! Ho! Ho!" not "Go! Go! Go!" this year.

For starters, I'm thankful and honored to have so many friends and family to share this table with. From my older sister Dee to little Merriam and everyone in between, I'm thankful for you all. We don't look alike and some of us have accents different from others. I'm thankful for those differences because it makes each one unique with a perspective to add. Sorrow, joy, and everything in between – we've experienced it all at one time or another and leaned on someone at this table for support. Let’s all be thankful for our shared humanity and thank God for the bounty we

Season's Bleatings by Stewart Stafford I'm looking forward to Christmas, As Nostradamus dreaded prophecy, In place of war, famine, apocalypse, I see spending, coveting and family. Wandering through warm déjà vu, In new ways with usual-faced folk, Fat in an absent winter wonderland, Goodwill to all men as you go broke. A fever dream or a deep turkey coma? St. Nicholas dripping presents around? An eviction notice to vacate sobriety, Consumerism and consumption unbound. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.

Some of us still believe there is a Santa Claus...somewhere

A crimson mane of fire cascaded down the back of a slight woman with sensuous curves. She faced a man standing too close to her, stroking her arm. Nick swallowed a growl. Where was this coming from?
 It’d been forever since he’d felt the stirrings of desire, and, besides, he’d always preferred tall brunettes like Helena. He hadn’t even seen the redhead’s face. None of that mattered as he moved toward the couple. But before he’d taken three steps, the woman darted down the darkened hallway. A square of light filled the corridor as she thrust open the exit. He blinked at the blaze of sunlight on her hair before she disappeared and the door closed behind her. 


Noelle perched on the edge of the seat to avoid touching anything. The car smelled like him. Leather with a hint of something lemony. It wasn’t one of those plug-in scent makers—she’d smelled him the first day of class and promptly taken the desk farthest from his. His scent, his voice, his commanding attitude—there was no way a teacher should be so…much.

I blew up a balloon and wrote on it in indelible pen, Happy Xmas everyone, luv you all xx, then threw it over the side into the Southern Ocean.

Xmas is forced on a reluctant and dignified nation by the shopkeepers and the press', says Shaw. Yet through the glut of food and tinsel, balloons, gifts and false snow something else struggles.

Maybe it’s not supposed to be sexy, but Teddy is bringing the sexy back to Christmas. He’s putting the X back into X-mas. He’s adding the hung into hanging the stockings. He’s about to Christmas bonus me into next week.

Tomatoes should be accorded with respect, for without them, Christmas stew wouldn’t exist.

Well Xmas is coming and the geese are getting fat, please put a penny in the blind man’s hat as the old saying use to go but not that I am asking you to put a penny in my hat or am not a blind man either as far as that is concerned. I never saw the day wherein no matter how much moola I had I could not use some more but I am saving you for a big touch in case I want to start my own band in competition with you (who knows I may be kidding on the level and that would be quite irony if it ever happened?) I do not know why it is that I sound like everything was sharp and I was right up there because if you want the truth and the whole truth and nothing but the truth you pal Joey is on the cake line. That is my way of putting it that I am on the bread line only I am still a little better off.

My motto for life has always been to try new things. Normally I find myself saying "I should..." Or "why don't I..." But now I'm living by a new motto. It goes like this. Why wait?

Enjoy the beauty, love and peace of a sacred Christmas.

Everything we do, it’s for both of us. What would we do without each other?

That’s what real love is, Isla. It’s not about the good times. It’s about holding each other up when things fall apart.

We might not have the fanciest house or the latest gadgets, but we have trust. We have honesty. When things get tough, we face them together.

Healing, Isla realised, wasn’t about forgetting – it was about learning to wear your scars with grace.

Isla couldn’t shake the feeling that she was standing on the edge of something far more treacherous than a mere overhang. She just hoped she wouldn’t fall.

apologise.

That's what real love is, Isla. It's not about the good times. It's about holding each other up when things fall apart.

Some things, broken though they might be, could be rebuilt into something better.

Healing, Isla realized, wasn't about forgetting- it was about learning to wear your scars with grace.

Now she was on her own she appreciated the smaller details all the more.

Even though she was on her own now, she had made a commitment to herself to continue cooking for herself. There would be no ready meals, no shortcuts. Something about creating food from scratch was healing, like proving to herself that she could nurture and sustain without losing herself in the process.

Especially then. That’s what real love is, Isla. It’s not about the good times. It’s about holding each other up when things fall apart.

The toiling majority have long realised the fraud. You do not find that real troubles give way to Christmas feasts; rather, you will notice that it is the feasts which have to give way where real troubles are present. Even in our limited experience we know many, and those not amongst the most oppressed, who sigh with relief when the season is over, and thank God that Christmas does come but once a year.