Christmas May Not Bring A Single Thing;

As The Gloom And Shadow Thickened Behind Him, In That Place Where It Had Been Gathering So Darkly, It Took, By Slow Degrees, - Or Out Of It There Came, By Some Unreal, Unsubstantial Process - Not To Be Traced By Any Human Sense, - An Awful Likeness Of Himself!

Philosophers Are Only Men In Armor After All.

The More Especially, As In My Juvenile Frankness, I Took Some Credit To Myself For Being So Confidential And Felt That I Was Quite The Patron Of My Two Respectful Entertainers.

What Is Peace? Is It War? No. Is It Strife? No. Is It Lovely, And Gentle, And Beautiful, And Pleasant, And Serene, And Joyful? O Yes!

I Must Do Something Or I Shall Wear My Heart Away.