Scrooge Quotes

“If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.”
― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

“Of course they had more chains on him than Scrooge saw on Marley's ghost, but he could have kicked up dickens if he'd wanted. That's a pun, son.”
― Stephen King, The Green Mile

“Mrs. Pott's beady black eyes narrowed,"Do you know how many glass slippers I have to stitch when I get home? There's a Mad Hatter serenading a toaster as we speak. There could be mayhem wreaking havoc all over the love in New Gotham, granted what thankless ingrates you are. But here I am! I've taken a chance on you..”
― Sophie Avett, 'Twas the Darkest Night (Darkest Hour Saga, #1)

“There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say, 'Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round -- apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging ti it can be apart from that -- as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.”
― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol and Other Christmas Writings

“THE NAKED HEART

From womb to tomb,
There came and went -
Only you.
Poor or rich,
You will die with
Only you.
All the wealth you harvest
In the living,
Will go to others when you are dead.
But the true test of a lion of God -
Is to keep giving with your own hands,
Before you rest in your final bed.”
― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

“Dickensian poverty tends to occur after Christmas in January. For it is then, with pockets empty, diary decimated and larder bare, that the general populace sinks into a collective pauper's hibernation until Valentine's Day.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Christmas doesn't feel like a holiday anymore. It feels more like a mainstream obligation to buy things for people most likely to buy us things, so we're not embarrassed by the perception of not caring for them. It's a product marketing season that starts earlier every year, replacing Halloween candy on the store shelves with Santa Claus. It's the most insufferable time of the year.”
― Kianu Starr

“That's it? That's all that happens after you topple from grace? We lose our rubies and rations?" Marshall smirked. "Woe is me.”
― Sophie Avett, 'Twas the Darkest Night (Darkest Hour Saga, #1)

“Mrs. Potts beady black eyes narrowed,"Do you know how many glass slippers I have to stitch when I get home? There's a Mad Hatter serenading a toaster as we speak. There could be mayhem wreaking havoc all over the love in New Gotham, granted what thankless ingrates you are. But here I am!”
― Sophie Avett, 'Twas the Darkest Night (Darkest Hour Saga, #1)

“There could be no half-measures,
Nothing half-done,
Oh, stopping Christmas would be so much fun!”
― Stewart Stafford

“The day you stop getting excited about Christmas is the day you become officially old.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Scrooge is no Marley, and Marley is no Scrooge, and their partnership is the better for it.”
― Jon Clinch

“In A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, Tiny Tim is the personification of Scrooge's dormant conscience that he finally acknowledges and embraces in the end.”
― Stewart Stafford

“A Christmas Without Mistletoe by Stewart Stafford

What a holiday season!
No deliveries of mistletoe,
Could it be a Grinch-like,
Cancel culture embargo?

At the rate we're going,
We'll have no chance to kiss,
Can the Scrooge supply chain,
Find salvation after Christmas?

So save up your kisses,
Dampen down your ardour,
And maybe we can smooch,
In January's restocked larder.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Dying Hours by Stewart Stafford

All debts were settled on Christmas Eve,
Fail to do so, and there’d be no reprieve,
In the dying flame of a guttering candle,
Monies got paid, and cash got handled.

When the last customer left to journey home,
Quinn, the shop owner, found himself alone,
He stared at pooling shadows, no one there,
Told himself to hurry, be with those who care.

As he closed up, something screamed out,
A figure from out of the dark began to shout,
A man with no eyes begged alms for the dead,
Or any old soup with a thick slice of bread.

Quinn said he was a business, not a charity,
The man’s eyes opened with some clarity,
“Very well,” the man said, “Nothing’s free,”
“I’ll drag your soul to Hell, come with me!”

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“I really hated the jobs I had that were poorly funded.”
― Steven Magee, Toxic Altitude

“The more I discover about Elon Musk, the more I dislike him.”
― Steven Magee

“It is required of every man... that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow men, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death... It is doomed to wander through the world... and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness.”
― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

“The Christmas Crasher or Merry Crisis & Happy New Fear
(The Yule-Get-Yours Scapegoat)
A Poem by Stewart Stafford

A malevolent sprite in our living room,
A mouldy Púca in the Christmas tree,
Bauble-gleam eyes in festive branches,
A sulphur stink while we watch TV.

Swallowing a window candle flame;
A fire-eater’s trick to no applause,
Season’s sweets wolfed down—
Even wrappers, devoured without pause.

A fridge raid’s boozy-woozy walk,
A true eggnog nuisance — every inch,
Crash — a muffled, 'Timber! God rest ya!'
So loud, we thought it was The Grinch!

My parents demanded it come out:
"A wrecked tree and hangover’s enough!"
It pleaded against eviction in the cold,
Squatter’s rights for lack of sterner stuff!

Seated at the Xmas dinner table,
Tossing scraps to our strange ‘pet’ below,
Foghorn burp aria, a puked tinsel encore,
Pine-needle toothpick snores in fake snow.

© 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford