Christmas Carol Figurative Language

Old Marley was as dead as a door nail

Oh! He was a tightfisted hand at the grindstone

A squeezing wrenching graphing scraping clutching covetous old sinner.

Even the blinds men's dogs would wag their tails as though they said no eye at all is better than an evil eye dark master.

It was bleak biting weather

If if 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.

If they would rather die they had better to do it and decrees the surplus population

The cold became intense piercing searching biting cold

Which is perhaps why Scrooge thought it was a locomotive hearse going on before him in the gloom

The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business

Why did I walk through crowds of fellow beings with my eyes down and never raise them to that blessed star which led the wise men to a poor adobe

I do apologize I have no knowledge of ever having bonneted you at any period of my life

Ali baba and the gate of Damascus

Home is like heaven

Another idol has displaced me what idol has displaced you a golden one

It is enough that I have thought of it and can release you

Have you had many brothers spirit? More then eighteen hundred

I see vacant seat in the poor chimney corner and a crutch without an owner carefully preserved

To hear the insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life amount his hungry brothers in the dust

Scrooge was the ogre go the family

As Scrooge and the spirit went along the streets the brightness of the roaring fires in the kitchen parlors and all sorts of rooms was wonderful the lamp who ran before dotting the dusky street with specks of the light laughed out loud as the spirit passed

Want is keenly felt and abundance rejoices

Sitting in among the wares he delt in was a grey-haired rascal who smoked his pipe in all the luxury of calm retirement

The phantom spread its robe before him a moment like a wing

The gravestone

Oh tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone