Dead Poets Society Forum IN MEMORY OF DEAD POETS

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.
- Diane Setterfield

So very well said , the arts are where imortality is .

A dead poet is as good as a live one as far as reaching the heart goes..the messages still hold their magic ..

 

The indigo girls wrote a wonderful song about Virginia Wolf.. that speaks of this imortality that writers weld..

hope you like these lyrics they are not complete..I just tossed you m y favorite parts.

Virginia Woolf

 we're all the same the men of anger and the women of the page they published your diary and that's how i got to know you key to the room of your own and a mind without end here's a young girl on a kind of a telephone line through time the voice at the other end comes like a long-lost friend so i know i'm alright my life will come my life will go still i feel it's alright I just got a letter to my soul when my whole life is on the tip of my tongue empty pages for the no longer young the apathy of time laughs in my face you say each life has its place .

 

 but if you need to know that you weathered the storm of cruel mortality a hundred years later i'm sitting here living proof so you know it's alright your life will come your life will go still you'll feel it's alright someone will get a letter to your soul when your whole life was on the tip of you tongue empty pages for the no longer young the apathy of time laughed in your face did you hear me say each life has its place the place where you hold me is dark in a pocket of truth the moon has swallowed the sun and the light of the earth and so it was for you when the river eclipsed your life but sent your soul like a message in a bottle to me and it was my rebirth so we know it's alright life will come and life will go still we know it's alright someone will get a message to your soul