In the chapter on the Resurrection of the Body, Pritchard shares an epitaph that Ben Franklin wrote for himself when he was 23-years-old (which did not end up being used when he died). It read:
The body of
Benjamin Franklin, Printer
(Like the Cover of an Old Book
Its Contents torn Out
And Stript of its Lettering and Gilding)
Lies Here, Food for Worms.
But the Work shall not be Lost;
For it will (as he Believ'd) Appear once More
In a New and More Elegant Ediction
Revised and Corrected
By the Author.
I thought that was cool.
It looks like I'll be out of blogging range until at least Sunday, January 7, 2007. Alas, my in-laws are kidnapping me and my family and taking us to Cancun. It will be rough, but I'm clinging to the words of Paul, "I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed to us."
When I'm suffering on the beach in Mexico, I'm be thinking of you... or maybe not!
See you when I get back!