“bet he was myrrh,” said Josh. “Bastard, he brings the cheapest gift and now he wants to sodomize me. My mother told me the myrrh went bad after a week too.” Did I mention that Joshua was not a myrrh fan?”

“I'll bet he was myrrh. Bastard, he brings the cheapest gift and now he wants to sodomize me.”

“What have I to give my Lord? Just what the wise men gave. Gold—all the things that are wealth to me: money and health and strength and friends. Frankincense—the first intensity of my heart's love and loyalty. Myrrh—my sorrows, my hurts, my trials—and my power to suffer. When I give Him these, I give Him all. And He is worthy.”

“One of the professors told me last week that he feels bad teaching with the way the economy is now. ‘What’s the point?’ he said. ‘Kids aren’t getting jobs.’ You never hear faculty talk that way. He did.”

“There are stories told to him only at this time of year. Fantastic, magical stories, the old Hollier in the woods finding only three red berries, which peel back in the night to reveal gifts of frankincense, gold and myrrh, Christmas in hot deserts, dust-blown countries, the necklace of tears, and the story of the robin.”

“I love you, I love you, my heart is a rose which your love has brought to bloom, my life is a desert fanned by the delicious breeze of your breath, and whose cool spring are your eyes; the imprint of your little feet makes valleys of shade for me, the odour of your hair is like myrrh, and wherever you go you exhale the perfumes of the cassia tree.Love me always, love me always. You have been the supreme, the perfect love of my life; there can be no other...”