There seems a magic in the very name of Christmas. Petty jealousies and discords are forgotten; social feelings are awakened in bosoms to which they have long been strangers; father and son, or brother and sister, who have met and passed with averted gaze, or a look of cold recognition, for months before, proffer and return the cordial embrace, and bury their past animosities in their present happiness.

Charles Dickens (1812–1870) English writer and social critic

Sketches by Boz, “Characters,” ch. 2 “A Christmas Dinner” (1833-36)
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