Light in August, William Faulkner, pp.35
…………The newcomer turned without a word. The others watched him go down to the sawdust pile and vanish and reappear with a shovel and go to work. The foreman and the superintendent were talking at the door. They parted and the foreman returned. “His name is Christmas,” he said,
…………“His name is what?” one said.
…………“Christmas.”
…………“Is he a foreigner?”
…………“Did you ever hear of a white man named Christmas?” the foreman said.
…………“I never heard of nobody a-tall named it,” the other said.
…………And that was the first time Byron remembered that he had ever thought how a man’s name, which is supposed to be just the sound for who he is, can be somehow an augur of what he will do, if other men can only read the meaning in time.
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