“What right have you to be merry? what reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough. Come then, returned the nephew gaily. What right have you to be morose? You're rich enough.”

“Come, then," returned the nephew gaily. "What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough.”

“Christmas a humbug, uncle!" said Scrooge's nephew. "You don't mean that, I am sure?" "I do," said Scrooge. "Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? what reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough.”

“Do you particularly like the man?” he muttered, at his own image; “why should you particularly like a man who resembles you? There is nothing in you to like; you know that. Ah, confound you! What a change you have made in yourself! A good reason for taking to a man, that he shows you what you have fallen away from, and what you might have been! Change places with him, and would you have been looked at by those blue eyes as he was, and commiserated by that agitated face as he was? Come on, and have it out in plain words! You hate the fellow”

“Calamity with us, is made an excuse for doing wrong. With them, it is erected into a reason for their doing right. This is really the justice of rich to poor, and I protest against it because it is so.”

“Oh, but reasoning is so much worse than scolding!... I didn't marry to be reasoned with. If you meant to reason with such a poor little thing as I am, you ought to have told me so, you cruel boy!”

“[...] There are tales among us that you have sold yourself to the devil, and I know not what.''We all have, have we not?' returned the stranger, looking up. 'If we were fewer in number, perhaps he would give better wages.”