Do All The Good You Can And

You Touch Some Of The Reasons For My Going, Not For My Staying Away.

If They Would Rather Die, . . . They Had Better Do It, And Decrease The Surplus Population.

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!

Do The Wise Thing And The Kind Thing Too, And Make The Best Of Us And Not The Worst.

And How Did Little Tim Behave?” Asked Mrs Cratchit, When She Had Rallied Bob On His Credulity And Bob Had Hugged His Daughter To His Heart’s Content. “as Good As Gold,” Said Bob, “and Better. Somehow He Gets Thoughtful, Sitting By Himself So Much, And Thinks The Strangest Things You Ever Heard. He Told Me, Coming Home, That He Hoped The People Saw Him In The Church, Because He Was A Cripple, And It Might Be Pleasant To Them To Remember Upon Christmas Day, Who Made Lame Beggars Walk, And Blind Men See.