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



Monday, November 17, 2008

Sunday, Sunday

We had a really great Sunday this week...
It was ward conference and when we got home our Home Teachers came over and gave a really great lesson on prayer. It was from Elder Bednar's Conference talk. When the Home Teachers left, I pulled out the Ensign and read the talk. Then I was flipping through and found that most of the talks from ward conference were based on talks from General Conference. That might not be news to anyone else, but they were not announced as "this is my talk taken from Elder so-and-so's talk" and because we didn't sit down and watch all the sessions, some of the talks were new as I read them yesterday. It was pretty cool.
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