O most illustrious of the days of time! Day full of joy and benison to earth When Thou wast born, sweet Babe of Bethlehem! With dazzling pomp descending angels sung Good will and peace to men, to God due praise, Who on the errand of salvation sent Thee, Son Beloved! of plural Unity Essential part, made flesh that mad'st all worlds.
I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was six. Mother took me to see him in a department store and he asked for my autograph.
If man does find the solution for world peace it will be the most revolutionary reversal of his record we have ever known.
Santa is having a tough time this year. Last year he deducted eight billion for gifts, and the IRS wants an itemized list
Christmas and Easter can be subjects for poetry, but Good Friday, like Auschwitz, cannot. The reality is so horrible it is not surprising that people should have found it a stumbling block to faith.
If you don't make Christmas presents, meaning making something that's so emotionally connected to people, don't talk to me.
For outlandish creatures like us, on our way to a heart, a brain, and courage, Bethlehem is not the end of our journey but only the beginning - not home but the place through which we must pass if ever we are to reach home at last.
A Christmas gambol oft could cheer The poor man's heart through half the year.
Here comes Santa Claus! Here comes Santa Claus! Right down Santa Claus Lane!
Christmas isn't a season. It's a feeling.
Bless us Lord, this Christmas, with quietness of mind; Teach us to be patient and always to be kind.
According to an ancient Sardinian legend, the bodies of those who are born on Christmas Eve will never dissolve into dust but are preserved until the end of time.
Glen had a disability more disfiguring than a burn and more terrifying than cancer. Glen had been born on the day after Christmas. "My parents just combine my birthday with Christmas, that's all," he explained. But we knew this was a lie. Glen's parents just wrapped a couple of his Christmas presents in birthday-themed wrapping paper, stuck some candles in a supermarket cake, and had a dinner of Christmas leftovers.
I am not alone at all, I thought. I was never alone at all. And that, of course, is the message of Christmas. We are never alone. Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent. For this is still the time God chooses.
God crowns us. Most people crown their Christmas trees with either an angel or a star. God uses both.
Whose heart doth hold the Christmas glow Hath little need of Mistletoe; Who bears a smiling grace of mien Need waste no time on wreaths of green; Whose lips have words of comfort spread Needs not the holly-berries red— His very presence scatters wide The spirit of the Christmastide.
I bought my mother-in-law a beautiful chair for Christmas, but she won't let me plug it in.
Christmas is here, Merry old Christmas, Gift-bearing Christmas, Day of grand memories, King of the year!
Christmas celebrations are often full of sound. It would be good for us to make room for silence, to hear the voice of Love.
My parents still treat Christmas like I'm thirteen years old.