DODD. D'you believe in presentiments, Whiston?

WHISTON (_doubtfully_). A year ago I should have laughed at you for
asking. Now ...

DODD. More things in heaven and earth ...?

WHISTON. My rationalism is always being upset!

DODD. How exactly?

WHISTON. For instance, I simply can't believe that old John is
finished. Can you?

DODD (_quietly_). No.

WHISTON. Funny thing. As far as I'm concerned I can quite imagine
myself just snuffing out. You can put one word on my grave, if I have
one--"Napu." But as for John, no. I want something else. Something
about Death being scored off after all.

DODD. I know. "O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy
victory?"

WHISTON. Just that. Mind you, I don't think I'm afraid of Death. I
don't want to get killed. But if I saw him coming I think I could
smile, and feel that after all he wasn't getting much of a bargain.
But the idea of his getting old John sticks in my gullet. I believe in
all sorts of things for him. Resurrection and life and Heaven, and all