The terrified looks on everyone's face when it was time to play that game was enough incentive to come to Thanksmas.

Look at them—scrutinise them, and see if every question of the day is not written there—written in indelible ink for future ages to read. They are “writ large” in the faces of half-a-dozen of the foremost men, and repeated in text in the host of lesser men. Take those three photographs that are “placed in the line,” as it were—Lord Salisbury, Mr. Gladstone, and Mr. John Dillon. In that trio you have the whole of the Irish question, from A to Z, and, if you throw in Mr. Parnell, with his smooth, mild, and inscrutable countenance, you have the “amparzand.”

I am open to new ideas.

Marat […] croaks with such reasonableness.