I Will Honor Christmas In My Heart,

They Enter, Locking Themselves In, Descend The Rugged Steps, And Are Down In The Crypt. The Lantern Is Not Wanted, For The Moonlight Strikes In At The Groined Windows, Bare Of Glass, The Broken Frames For Which Cast Patterns On The Ground. The Heavy Pillars Which Support The Roof Engender Masses Of Black Shade, But Between Them There Are Lanes Of Light.

Every Traveler Has A Home Of His Own, And He Learns To Appreciate It The More From His Wandering.

A Dangerous Quality, If Real; And A Not Less Dangerous One, If Feigned.

God Bless Us, Every One!

Circumstances Beyond My Individual Control.