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, November 2, 2011

:)

I'm not sure who to tell, so I will tell the internet*. I'm so excited to go see Breaking Dawn! I can't wait.
I feel a little silly** but we have gone to see all the Twilight movies in the theater and it's so fun. I think they are the only movies we have seen in a theater and paid pull price for***. Allowing myself to get giddy over something so really, really silly. Priceless****.

~~
* Somewhere I know Mr. Universe is watching^.
** Okay. A lot silly.
***This may be an exaggeration... then again maybe not.
****My mental health will attest to that.
^(That's a Firefly / Serenity reference.)
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