It Is A Melancholy Truth That Even

And Can It Be That In A World So Full And Busy The Loss Of One Creature Makes A Void So Wide And Deep That Nothing But The Width And Depth Of Eternity Can Fill It Up!

That, They Never Could Lay Their Heads Upon Their Pillows; That, They Never Could Tolerate The Idea Of Their Wives Laying Their Heads Upon Their Pillows; That, They Never Could Endure The Notion Of Their Children Laying Their Heads Upon Their Pillows; In Short, That There Never More Could Be, For Them Or Theirs, Any Laying Of Heads Upon Pillows At All, Unless The Prisoner's Head Was Taken Off.

... What Such People Miscall Their Religion, Is A Vent For Their Bad Humours And Arrogance.

I See That I Hold A Sanctuary In Their Hearts, And In The Hearts Of Their Descendants, Generations Hence. I See Her, An Old Woman, Weeping For Me On The Anniversary Of This Day. I See Her And Her Husband, Their Course Done, Lying Side By Side In Their Last Earthly Bed, And I Know That Each Was Not More Honoured And Held Sacred In The Other's Soul, Than I Was In The Souls Of Both.

It's Not My Business," Scrooge Returned. "it's Enough For A Man To Understand His Own Business, And Not To Interfere With Other People's. Mine Occupies Me Constantly.