Not the littlest atom is destroyed.

It changes, that's all, as you see this pine wood go up in smoke an' feel somethin' that's heat come out of it.

Where does that go?
It's not lost.
Nothin' is lost.

So, the beautiful an' savin' thought is, maybe all rock an' wood, water an' blood an' flesh, are resolved back into the elements, to come to life somewhere again sometime." "Oh, what you say is wonderful, but it's terrible!" exclaimed Helen.

He had struck deep into her soul.
"Terrible?
I reckon," he replied, sadly.
Then ensued a little interval of silence.
"Milt Dale, I lose the bet," declared Bo, with earnestness behind her frivolity.
"I'd forgotten that.