People disappear when they die. Their voice, their laughter,
the warmth of their breath.Their flesh. Eventually their bones.
All living memory 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 continue
to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humor, 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 the 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. --Margaret Lea"
Diane Setterfield (The Thirteenth Tale)