Darkness Is Cheap, And Scrooge Liked It.

Spite Is A Little Word, But It Represents As Strange A Jumble Of Feelings And Compound Of Discords, As Any Polysyllable In The Language.

A Brisk, Bright, Blue-eyed Fellow, A Very Neat Figure And Rather Under The Middle Size, Never Out Of The Way And Never In It.

We Never Tire Of The Friendships We Form With Books.

It Was One Of Those Hot, Silent Nights, When People Sit At Windows Listening For The Thunder Which They Know Will Shortly Break; When They Recall Dismal Tales Of Hurricanes And Earthquakes; And Of Lonely Travellers On Open Plains, And Lonely Ships At Sea, Struck By Lightning.

"as I Think I Told You Once Before," Said I, "it Is You Who Have Been, In Your Greed And Cunning, Against All The World. It May Be Profitable To You To Reflect, In Future, That There Never Were Greed And Cunning In The World Yet, That Did Not Do Too Much, And Overreach Themselves. It Is As Certain As Death."