Christmas Eve Quotes

“All four of us gasped at the same time—the tree reached the ceiling and curled down at least a foot! What were we to do now?”
― Larada Horner-Miller, Hair on Fire: A Heartwarming & Humorous Christmas Memoir

“Good for Christmas-time is the ruddy colour of the cloak in which--the tree making a forest of itself for her to trip through, with her basket--Little Red Riding-Hood comes to me one Christmas Eve to give me information of the cruelty and treachery of that dissembling Wolf who ate her grandmother, without making any impression on his appetite, and then ate her, after making that ferocious joke about his teeth. She was my first love. I felt that if I could have married Little Red Riding-Hood, I should have known perfect bliss. But, it was not to be; and there was nothing for it but to look out the Wolf in the Noah's Ark there, and put him late in the procession on the table, as a monster who was to be degraded.”
― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Tree

“It always is Christmas Eve, in a ghost story.”
― Jerome K. Jerome, Gaslit Nightmares: Stories by Robert W. Chambers, Charles Dickens, Richard Marsh, and Others

“It was Christmas Eve. Big snowflakes fluttered slowly through the air like white feathers and made all of the Heavenly Valley smooth and white and quiet and beautiful.

Tall fir trees stood up to their knees in snow and their outstretched hands were heaped with it. Those that were bare of leaves wore soft white fur on their scrawny, reaching arms and all the stumps and low bushes had been turned into fat white cupcakes.”
― Betty MacDonald, Nancy and Plum

“For months I yearned to see Santa again, mooning for him like a lost love. Then, on Christmas Eve, I was awakened by someone shaking me in my bed. “Ho! Ho! Ho!” a voice said out of the darkness. I felt the giggles rising up in my throat.
But that's another story...”
― Alden Perkes, The Santa Claus Book

“A child conceived on Christmas Eve is considered unlucky and will later resent his parents for their unholy transgression, their lack of control and piety. The child may be deformed with a harelip or be cursed with the ears and head of a wolf. Or the infant may be born a werewolf.”
― Jody Shields, The Fig Eater

“On the Eve of Christmas
By Don Iannone
Snowy, snowy Christmas Eve,
For just this night we believe,
Stardust spread far and wide,
Angelic songs in hearts abide.”
― Donald T Iannone, D.Div.

“She gritted her teeth. The man dances like a clod. I’d rather dance with Mr Jenkins, who can barely move.”
― A.F. Stewart, Christmas Lites III

“It was a beautiful, clear Southern California kind of Christmas Eve, the kind where Santa shows up in khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt and shades, flashing a peace sign with one hand and sipping a Corona with the other.”
― Z.A. Maxfield

“Eating a huge home cooked Christmas dinner was his personal favorite. Evan would look around after each Christmas Day was done. There were empty dishes, and torn up wrapping paper on the ground. Monty was passed out on the couch stuffed with food. Evan would close his eyes and hear the day. He could feel the memories that were just made.”
― David Rangel, Evan the Christmas Elf: Ghost Hunter

“Oh!” exclaimed Marie at last, “who does the charming little fellow in the tree belong to, dearest Papa?”
“He should work hard for all of you, dear child,” her father replied. “He can bite the hardest of nuts and crack them open for you, and he belongs to Luise as much as to you and Fritz.”
― E.T.A. Hoffmann, The Nutcracker and The Mouse King

“Meet Me In Toyland by Stewart Stafford

Santa handed me the keys to Toyland,
And, placing them squarely in the palm of my hand,
He bid me go and have lots of fun,
With all kinds of everyone.

I skipped across the gingerbread bridge,
Yuletide coffee flowing down from the ridge,
To a Christmas tree consisting of mint,
Lit all around by falling star glint.

At the frosting gates of Castle St Nicholas,
Silver snake tinsel began to hiss,
As polar bears to a clockwork orchestra danced,
With elves as their partners gleefully entranced.

Multitudes of children whooped and cheered,
Forgetting all their doubts and fears,
Celebrating their gifts of toys,
With every kind of girl and boy.

Alas, our midwinter joy came to an end,
And I tearfully bid adieu to all my new friends,
And took a shooting star comet home,
Across the Northern Lights in the sky’s dome.

© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“We do it for the fun and the fact it makes us feel closer to loved ones both living and dead.”
― Robert Tinnell, Feast of the Seven Fishes: The Collected Comic Strip and Italian Holiday Cookbook

“One Christmas Eve in my childhood, my dad asked if I wanted to leave alcohol out for Santa. I agreed but said to only leave a little as I was afraid I'd wake up on Christmas morning and see Santa drunkenly circling over our house in his sleigh.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Christmas Sonnet

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way,
Oh, what fun it is to give our own life away!
Saint Nicholas did his part, so did Chris himself,
Now it's time for us to be the happiness gateway.
Dashing through the alleys devoid of lights,
Holding up high as beacon, our own heart,
Breaking ourselves to pieces and burning to ashes,
We'll ensure no one lacks the love a human deserves.
We are Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen and Comet,
We are Cupid, Donner, Blitzen and Rudolph.
We are also modern day Nick, Chris and Eckhart,
By our love and oneness let the world be engulfed!
Twelve days ain't enough to celebrate Christmas.
As humans we must live each day helping others.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Giants in Jeans: 100 Sonnets of United Earth

“Twelve days ain't enough to celebrate Christmas. as humans we must live each day helping others.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Giants in Jeans: 100 Sonnets of United Earth

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, Oh, what fun it is to give our own life away! Saint Nicholas did his part, so did Chris himself, Now it's time for us to be the happiness gateway.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Giants in Jeans: 100 Sonnets of United Earth

“Dying Hours by Stewart Stafford

All debts were settled on Christmas Eve,
Fail to do so, and there’d be no reprieve,
In the dying flame of a guttering candle,
Monies got paid, and cash got handled.

When the last customer left to journey home,
Quinn, the shop owner, found himself alone,
He stared at pooling shadows, no one there,
Told himself to hurry, be with those who care.

As he closed up, something screamed out,
A figure from out of the dark began to shout,
A man with no eyes begged alms for the dead,
Or any old soup with a thick slice of bread.

Quinn said he was a business, not a charity,
The man’s eyes opened with some clarity,
“Very well,” the man said, “Nothing’s free,”
“I’ll drag your soul to Hell, come with me!”

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“CHRISTMAS EVE MENU

Foie gras with Caramelized Apples

Salmon with lemon, Cucumber, and Dill, served on Small Rounds of Toasted Bread


Escargots de Bourgogne



Oysters Three Ways

Oysters with a Mignonette Sauce

Oysters with Pimento Peppers and Apple Cider Vinegar

Oysters Rockefeller, deglazed with Pernod, served with Spinach, Pimento Pepper, and Lardons



Sophie's Spiced Langoustes (Spiny Lobster) à l'Armoricaine
AND
Crayfish and Shrimp with a Saffron-infused Aioli Dipping Sauce
AND
Moules à la Plancha with Chorizo”
― Samantha Verant, Sophie Valroux's Paris Stars

“It felt as though I were going to take a crowbar to a church door on Christmas Eve or stood outside a grove where demon worshipers were about to sacrifice a virgin.”
― Thomm Quackenbush, The Road to Vent Haven

“They enjoyed the usual holiday traditions of a Christmas tree, big family dinner, you know, normal stuff but Amma had one tradition that she insisted be shared with me and all of my cousins, which was Jolabokaflod.”
“A what flood?”
“It translates to Christmas Book flood,” I said. “In Iceland it’s a tradition to give new books as gifts on Christmas Eve and then spend the evening reading.”
“Seriously?” Sam asked. “As a writer and avid reader, I have to say that is awesome.”
― Jenn McKinlay, It Happened One Christmas Eve