“There are many Green Dragons in this world of wayside inns, even as there are many White Harts, Red Lions, Silent Women and other incredible things...”

“It had been agreed between them that lighted candles at wayside inns, in strange countries amid mountain scenery, gave the evening meal a peculiar poetry.”

“When to the sessions of sweet silent thoughtI summon up remembrance of things past,I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought...”

“I know you like me, Ara. You don't have to pretend, just because you think it's improper to fall for someone at first sight.” His eyes lit up, shimmering green like a glass marble held up to the sun. “I can see that you feel the same way I do.”Oh, my God! Is this the point where I can jump off the swing and fall into his waiting arms? No. Don't do that. Don't read into it too much. I looked away from his gleaming, white-toothed grin, and clutched the ropes of the swing tighter.”

“Incredible. Humans are such irrational creatures. So here you sit,a small space filled with demons that could tear you limb from limb as easy as pulling wings off a butterfly and you're scared of the helicopter crashing, which has a less than 2 percent chance... tell me Keira girl, what do you think the percentage is of a vampire sucking a human dry?”

“What is the colour of Christmas?Red? The red of the toyshops on a dark winter’s afternoon,Of Father Christmas and the robin’s breast?Or green?Green of holly and spruce and mistletoe in the house, dark shadow of summer in leafless winter?One might plainly add a romance of white, fields of frost and snow;thus white, green, red- reducing the event to the level of a Chianti bottle. But many will say that the significant colour is gold, gold of fire and treasure, of light in the winter dark; and this gets closer, For the true colour of Christmas is Black.Black of winter, black of night, black of frost and of the east wind, black of dangerous shadows beyond the firelight.I am not sure who wrote this. I got it from page nine of “A Book of Christmas” by William Sansom. Google didn’t help. It is rather true I think, that the true color of Christmas is black. For like the author said in succeeding sentences “The table yellow with electric light, the fire by which stories are told, the bright spangle of the tree- they all blazé out of shadow and out of a darkness of winter”

“I guess a case of nerves could survive even death”