1. My brothers and sisters, true love is a reflection of the Savior’s love. In December of each year we call it the Christmas spirit. You can hear it. You can see it. You can feel it.
2. December’s wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer’s memory.
3. It is growing cold. Winter is putting footsteps in the meadow. What whiteness boasts that sun that comes into this wood! One would say milk-colored maidens are dancing on the petals of orchids. How coldly burns our sun. One would say its rays of light are shards of snow, one imagines the sun lives upon a snow-crested peak on this day. One would say she is a woman who wears a gown of winter frost that blinds the eyes. Helplessness has weakened me. Wandering has wearied my legs.
4. It is December, and nobody asked if I was ready.
5. I heard a bird sing in the dark of December. A magical thing. And sweet to remember. We are nearer to Spring than we were in September. I heard a bird sing in the dark of December.
6. I heard a bird sing in the dark of December. A magical thing. And sweet to remember. We are nearer to Spring than we were in September. I heard a bird sing in the dark of December.
7. December, being the last month of the year, cannot help but make us think of what is to come.
8. I blink January’s lashes and gush down December’s cheeks.
9. Colored lights blink on and off, racing across the green boughs. Their reflections dance across exquisite glass globes and splinter into shards against tinsel thread and garlands of metallic filaments that disappear underneath the other ornaments and finery. Shadows follow, joyful, laughing sprites. The tree is rich with potential wonder. All it needs is a glance from you to come alive.
10. To die would mean nothing else than to surrender a nothing to the nothing, but that would be impossible to conceive, for how could a person, even only as a nothing, consciously surrender himself to the nothing, and not merely to an empty nothing but rather to a roaring nothing whose nothingness consists only in its incomprehensibility.
11. There is October in every November and there is November in every December. All seasons melted in each other’s life.
12. Someone asked me when is my birthday? The poet inside me replied, “My birthday is on the last day of the year. It’s 31st December my dear!
13. There must be something ghostly in the air of Christmas. Something about the close, muggy atmosphere that draws up the ghosts, like the dampness of the summer rains brings out the frogs and snails.
14. It was snowing. It was always snowing at Christmas. December, in my memory, is white as Lapland, though there were no reindeers. But there were cats.
15. The crisp path through the field in this December snow, in the deep dark, where we trod the buried grass like ghosts on dry toast.
16. May and October, the best-smelling months? I’ll make a case for December: evergreen, frost, wood smoke, cinnamon.
17. I’ve come to sing you a song called December.
18. Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December. And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow, – vainly I had sought to borrow. From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore. For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.
19. There was warmth in his large piercing brown eyes. The kind of warmth that tucks a child into bed. The same kind of warmth that dries your wet hair on a rainy December afternoon.
20. I watched you storm towards the restaurant door. It was a chilly December morning and the birds sitting on the high wires in the neighborhood refused to fly any longer.
21. There’s something super special about December.
22. It is never over, though we are in December.
23. By December an elastic skin of ice reached out hundreds of miles into the sea, rolling with every wave.
24. I miss being in Barbados in December. That is the time I always remember. The smell of varnish on the wooden floors. And the smell of paint on the wooden doors. The crowds in de Supermarket buying up the rum, and the music blasting. Puh rup a pum pum.
25. It was December, I had never felt so cold, the eel soup lay heavy on my stomach, I was afraid I’d die, I turned aside to vomit, I envied them.
26. Hot cocoa and cold toes remind me of Christmas.
27. Without Hope, we live in desire.
28. Winter arrived with December, and the world continued to suffer the loss of the Internet and most forms of communication. Supply chains were disrupted. The only mass form of personal communication was the letter, and postal workers were having their worst year ever, as they were actually meeded. Food was becoming scarcer and more expensive, as was fuel for vehicles and heating. Major cities experienced riots on a regular basis, spurred on by religious fervor and want. Civilization was on the brink of collapse.
29. When I was a kid, Toronto streets were deserted and quiet on Sundays, except for the sound of church bells I stood on the sidewalk one December listening to the Christmas bells – I’ve never forgotten that moment.
30. Michigan isn’t just cold in December; it’s arctic.
31. You skins is so cold and dry. Like you are also afraid so this coming December.
32. He had waited a long time for this special December. Now that it was almost upon him, he wasn’t frightened, but he was eager, he decided. He was eager for it to come. And he was excited, certainly. All of the Elevens were excited about the event that would be coming so soon.
33. Wintry it ain’t no complaints. Snowier. Storefronts are showier, light displays glowier. Shoppers are prowling, blizzard howling. Drifts a-heaping, lords a-leaping, yule logs burning, gifts returning. Winds are keen for 2015.
34. It was a pretty sight, and a seasonable one, that met their eyes when they flung the door open. In the fore-court, lit by the dim rays of a horn lantern, some eight or ten little field-mice stood in a semicircle, red worsted comforters round their throats, their fore-paws thrust deep into their pockets, their feet jigging for warmth. With bright beady eyes they glanced shyly at each other, sniggering a little, sniffing and applying coat-sleeves a good deal. As the door opened, one of the elder ones that carried the lantern was just saying, “Now then, one, two, three!” and forthwith their shrill little voices uprose on the air, singing one of the old-time carols that their forefathers composed in fields that were fallow and held by frost, or when snow-bound in chimney corners, and handed down to be sung in the miry street to lamp-lit windows at Yule-time.
35. Each of us should think of the future. Every puff on a cigarette is another tick closer to a time bomb of terrible consequences. Christopher Hitchens didn’t care about the consequences of smoking cigarettes. Tragically, he died of throat cancer in December 2011.
36. Men are April when they woo, December when they wed. Maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives.
37. How did it get so late so soon? Its night before its afternoon. December is here before its June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?
38. Every December, I host a tree-trimming party. I serve chili with cornbread and lots of good wine. It’s a wonderful party, and it shows how much adults like to play.
39. A manager’s job is simple. For one hundred sixty-two games you try not to screw up all that smart stuff your organization did last December.
40. My favorite traditional Christmas movie that I like to watch is All Quiet on the Western Front. It’s just not December without that movie in my house.
41. Rosa Parks was a woman of strength, conviction, and morality. Her action on December 1, 1955, to defy the law made her a leading figure in our nation’s civil rights history.
42. The Christian Bible is a symbolic book, not a literal one. The one Christians know as Jesus was actually a symbol for the sun. Ancient sun worshippers believed the sun died at the end of the winter solstice and then three days later it would be reborn at the start of its cycle, December 25.
43. I don’t mean to burst anyone’s bubble, but there is no scriptural or historical basis for December 25th actually being the day that Jesus was born.
44. When December comes, can ‘The Nutcracker’ be far behind? No, it can’t, not in America, anyway.
45. Chill December brings the sleet, Blazing fire, and Christmas treat.
46. December 25th has become guilt and obligation.
47. December’s wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer’s memory.
48. Remember this December, that love weighs more than gold.
49. In December ring every day the chimes. Loud the gleemen sing In the streets their merry rhymes. Let us by the fire ever higher sing them till the night expire.
50. When dark December glooms the day, and takes our autumn joys away.
51. In cold December fragrant chaplets blow, And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.
52. December drops no weak, relenting tear, By our fond Summer sympathies ensnared, Nor from the perfect circle of the year Can even Winter’s crystal gems be spared.
53. On the evening of December 25, General Washington in a most severe season crossed the Delaware with a part of his army, then reduced to less than 2000 men in the whole.
54. On December 5, 1941, Chicago led a task force built around the carrier Lexington to Midway Island, at the western end of the Hawaiian Islands, about 1,000 miles from Pearl Harbor.
55. Yesterday, December seventh, 1941, a date which will live in infamy, the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.
56. In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook, Thy bubblings ne’er remember Apollo’s summer look; But with a sweet forgetting, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time.
57. When I was a child, my December weekends were spent making cards, decorating the tree, hanging the wreath and preparing brandy butter and peppermint creams.
58. It is the middle of December now, and we are about to travel to Switzerland – where we plan to ski a little, relax a little, and shoot a Dutch politician a little.
59. December was a horrible month.
60. People can’t concentrate properly on blowing other people to pieces if their minds are poisoned by thoughts suitable to the twenty-fifth of December.