Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exists, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies!

You know, in a way, 'Dear Santa Claus' is rather stuffy... Perhaps something a little more intimate would be better... Something just a shade more friendly..."
"How about 'Dear Fatty'?

He had a broad face and a little round belly, That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.

Oh it's been like Christmastime. Like Christmastime. Everybody sees a Santa Claus, but they're really happy, especially in Virginia Beach.

Later that day I went back to the old turf-house door and drew back the ivy. There between the stones was the dried-out bird's nest that was no longer in use because its owner was on her foreign holidays. I eased my letter to Santa out of my pocket and tucked it into the nest. I considered this the ideal resting place because the owner and Santa both belonged to foreign places and came here across the sky. There was the mystery of the unknown about the worlds they both came from; they belonged in the sky and my letter was destined to join them there when the time was right.