At thirty-eight I’m still single. Actually, let me be perfectly frank: Possibly Steve Young and I are the only people in the Western Hemisphere who have remained celibate until such an advanced age, and he…
The flask lay under a loose plank on the back porch. To someone lifting the board there was only an empty space, but when Wayne knelt and reached to his elbow beneath the adjacent board,…
“You shall not do it,” she said. A mere murmur, those words, deceptively soft, even gentle. Almost subliminal, though distinctly determined to anyone who knew her as he did. She had, in fact, employed the…
This engaging labor-of-love book is a pleasure to read even if one does not always agree with its arguments. In it, BYU German professor Alan Keele mines German literature and drama for what he calls…
For the past six years, I have been engaged in various dialogues best under stood by a quick trip through the editorial correspondence files, a sort of diary (or dia-log) of my term as editor. In that fragmentary record I grope for a synthesis that eludes me. Whenever someone politely asks me what kind of journal DIALOGUE is, I usually fall back on words like quarterly, intellectual, and scholarly.
When Elder Callister and I leaned our bikes against the fence at Hermann-Löns-Straße 9 and walked to the door, I had no idea that what was about to transpire would shape and anchor my soul…
For some reason I can’t explain, I know Saint Peter won’t call my name. Coldplay[1] Some of the functions in the celestial body will not appear in the terrestrial body, neither in the telestial body, and…
Jennifer is a mother of three—Sadie in high school, Carson in middle school, Jordan in elementary—which means weekdays start at 6:00 A.M. and quickly unspool, devolving into a mad scramble of showers and hair dryers…
Dialogue 47.1 (Spring 2012): 104–123
First, the history of the temple project will be shown from the Dutch perspective, with a discussion of some of the observable effects on the Dutch saints, one of them being a large drop in temple attendance.
as extracted from a series of emails James Goldberg discovered in his junk folder I am—without question—an American. If I’ve ever doubted that, it was clear the moment I walked into the humidity and human…