I Want To Escape From Myself. For

But I Am Sure That I Have Always Thought Of Christmas Time, When It Has Come Round...as A Good Time; A Kind, Forgiving, Charitable, Pleasant Time; The Only Time I Know Of, In The Long Calendar Of The Year, When Men And Women Seem By One Consent To Open Their Shut-up Hearts Freely.

Every Idiot Who Goes About With A 'merry Christmas' On His Lips Should Be Boiled With His Own Pudding, And Buried With A Stake Of Holly Through His Heart.

Fan The Sinking Flame Of Hilarity With The Wing Of Friendship; And Pass The Rosy Wine.

Bleak, Dark, And Piercing Cold, It Was A Night For The Well-housed And Fed To Draw Round The Bright Fire, And Thank God They Were At Home; And For The Homeless Starving Wretch To Lay Him Down And Die. Many Hunger-worn Outcasts Close Their Eyes In Our Bare Streets At Such Times, Who, Let Their Crimes Have Been What They May, Can Hardly Open Them In A More Bitter World.

There Is A Passion For Hunting Something Deeply Implanted In The Human Breast.