With throbbing veins and burning skin, eyes wild and heavy, thoughts hurried and disordered, he felt as though the light were a reproach, and shrunk involuntarily from the day as if he were some foul and hideous thing.

Drive him fast to his tomb. This, from Jacques.

Hours are golden links--God's tokens reaching heaven.

In the Destroyer's steps there spring up bright creations that defy his power, and his dark path becomes a way of light to Heaven.

Darkness is cheap, and Scrooge liked it.

Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one.

Rich folks may ride on camels, but it ain't so easy for 'em to see out of a needle's eye.