Victor Hugo Quotes

Every year, like a good Catholic, I wait for Christmas. Putting up the lights, decorating the tree, making sweets and then unwrapping gifts on Christmas morning... it's a tradition my family has followed since I was very little.

I love 'O Holy Night.' On Christmas Eve, there's a service at the church where I grew up, and at midnight, we would always sing, 'O Holy Night' with candles.

We have 40 people over for Thanksgiving, 30 people for Easter lunch, 35 people on Christmas Eve. People tend to expect to spend their holidays with us, which is lovely and an expectation I carry with pride.

Every Christmas Eve, the elves will come and give us a new pair of pajamas.

I think I never passed so sad an hour, Dear friend, as that one at the church to-night. The edifice from basement to the tower Was one resplendent blaze of coloured light.

Oh, Spring is surely coming, Her couriers fill the air; Each morn are new arrivals, Each night her ways prepare; I scent her fragrant garments, Her foot is on the stair.

The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great, that I thought I was in a dream.

Las Vegas looks the way you'd imagine heaven must look at night.

Soon it began to drizzle for the second time that night. The drops grew heavier and became visible in the headlights of the cars. It was said by some of the police on the scene that God was crying for the girl in the garden. To others, it was only rain.

People think it’s hard to travel to the airports. 9/11 has made our travel difficult, with the security laws and that. As far as comparing what we do to driving 3,000 miles a week, making fifty bucks a night, sometimes one hundred bucks a night, it’s a lot different. Guaranteed contracts, first class air fare, Hilton hotels in London, Champaign. Waddaya want? What more could you ask for!

Christmas is sights, especially the sights of Christmas reflected in the eyes of a child.

When Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there.

It was the beginning of the greatest Christmas ever. Little food. No presents. But there was a snowman in their basement.

Knight takes Knight,” I called into the cloudy night air. “Check.

The Ultimate Day really begins the night before, when you sit up until one o'clock trying to get things into trunk and bags. This is when you discover the well-known fact that summer air swells articles to twice or three times their original size.

In the night the cabbages catch at the moon, the leaves drip silver, the rows of cabbages are a series of little silver waterfalls in the moon.

I hear it still. As I lay down my pen and take to my bed, I am aware of the bow being drawn across the bridge and the music rises into the night sky. It is far away and barely audible - but there it is! A pizzicato. Then a tremelo. The style is unmistakable. It is Sherlock Holmes who is playing. It must be. I hope with all my heart that he is playing for me . . .

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban.

One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.

Fine old Christmas, with the snowy hair and ruddy face, had done his duty that year in the noblest fashion, and had set off his rich gifts of warmth and color with all the heightening contrast of frost and snow.

The snow had begun in the gloaming, and busily all the night had been heaping field and highway with a silence deep and white.

It is the middle and pure height and whole of summer and a summer night, the held breath, of a planet's year; high shored sleeps the crested tide: what day of the month I do not know, which day of the week I am not sure, far less what hour of the night.