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, April 13, 2009

not too much to post about

I'm just getting the house put together. I have to be creative and it is hurting my brain a little bit. Come over and give me suggestions if you'd like.

Tonight we are doing our family newsletter for FHE... I think I WILL post it here.
We are picking one or two of our favorite things each week to write about. I'm excited!
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1 comment:

Janika said...

And I hear you are trying to do a Media Center PC. Scott seems excited.

April 14, 2009 at 6:00 AM

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