Happy Christmas Eve Quotes & Sayings

As someone who worships music, I believe it can never be ugly! — Shreya Ghoshal

It's sad when people break up. — Pete Townshend

Holiness was always something richly dim. — A.E. Coppard

And Dad's to celebrate Christmas Eve. It was going to be a happy time - her and Martin's first Christmas together. No! No! No! — Wanda E. Brunstetter

It is not that love makes up for everything but rather that everything in the world can not make up for love. — Roumen Bezergianov

By striving so mightily to accomplish specific goals on behalf of one segment of humanity, she [Toni Morrison] went beyond them to create literary wonders capable of enriching the lives of not just her own people, but of all people. — Aberjhani

I mean, they're not actually going to murder you. Right? — Kieran Scott

Roger King is, without a doubt, the greatest salesman in the history of anything. And I don't ever limit him just to television. He could sell you anything. — Merv Griffin

The human heart is a strange vessel. Love and hatred can exist side by side. — Scott Westerfeld

Christmas was always a big holiday in our family. Every Christmas Eve before we'd go to bed, my mom and dad would read to us two or three stories and they would always be 'The Happy Prince,' 'The Gift of the Magi' and 'Twas the Night Before Christmas,' and I would like to keep that alive. — Cameron Mathison

But during the many happy hours that Cadpig was to sit watching it in the warm kitchen she never liked it quite so much as that other television, that still silent television she had seen on Christmas Eve when the puppies had rested so peacefully in that strange lofty building. She often remembered that building and wondered who owned it. Someone very kind she was sure for in front of every one of the many seats there had been a little carpet-eared puppy-sized dog-bed. — Dodie Smith

Hope was never meant to be
A future shared alone,
As life cannot be won or lost
It was never ours to own. — Frederic M. Perrin

War is a monster with snaky locks, and fiery bloodshot eyes, and harpy claws, passing over fair fields and leaving its footprints in burning villages, dying men, weeping wives and children, and needs to be seen by those who so eagerly clamour for it at every opportunity. The sight of that fearful phantom, girt round with skulls, chains reeking with blood and desolation and ruin in its track, would stop their eagerness for it, unless under real compulsion. — Moncure D. Conway