When The Time Comes, Let

"as I Think I Told You Once Before," Said I, "it Is You Who Have Been, In Your Greed And Cunning, Against All The World. It May Be Profitable To You To Reflect, In Future, That There Never Were Greed And Cunning In The World Yet, That Did Not Do Too Much, And Overreach Themselves. It Is As Certain As Death."

Out Upon Merry Christmas! What's Christmas Time To You But A Time For Paying Bills Without Money; A Time For Finding Yourself A Year Older, But Not An Hour Richer...? If I Could Work My Will," Said Scrooge Indignantly, "every Idiot Who Goes About With 'merry Christmas' Upon His Lips Should Be Boiled With His Won Pudding, And Buried With A Stake Of Holly Through His Heart. He Should!

And What An Example Of The Power Of Dress Young Oliver Twist Was! Wrapped In The Blanket Which Had Hitherto Formed His Only Covering, He Might Have Been The Child Of A Nobleman Or A Beggar;—it Would Have Been Hard For The Haughtiest Stranger To Have Fixed His Station In Society. But Now He Was Enveloped In The Old Calico Robes, That Had Grown Yellow In The Same Service; He Was Badged And Ticketed, And Fell Into His Place At Once—a Parish Child—the Orphan Of A Workhouse—the Humble, Half-starved Drudge—to Be Cuffed And Buffeted Through The World, Despised By All, And Pitied By None.

"do Not Repine, My Friends," Said Mr. Pecksniff, Tenderly. "do Not Weep For Me. It Is Chronic."

Death Is A Mighty, Universal Truth.