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



Thursday, October 30, 2008

I miss my boys

This Halloween our office is having kids come trick-or-treating through the office. It's totally something I'd want to invite Greyson and Aidan to.

2 comments:

Mrs. James Quigley said...

And they would have loved it. We didn't even get to go trick or treating with the boys this year, but I asked for a picture and if I get one then I will send it your way.

Unknown said...

Thanks!

I've seen a picture of their costumes, but I don't have a copy of my very own...yet...