From Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale

People disappear when they die. Their voices, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living mempry of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continut to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humour, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.

--Diane Setterfield



Wednesday, August 8, 2007

I love family History

in the form of stories told. They are so wonderful...

Today i learned a pearl of wisdom: My gret uncle's dad sat him down and had a chat when Gary was about 14. " son, you think I'm pretty smart now. In a few months you'll think I'm as dumb as they come."
It helped him with the teenage years. Huh. Whodathunkit?
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1 comment:

Michelle said...

Hey did you know that Megan is serving a part-time mission in Arizona at the Family History Center? She just started this month. She's tired from all the training, but she's really enjoying it.

August 16, 2007 at 8:35 PM

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