"What is your opinion of death, Mr Petulengro?" said I.
"My opinion of death, brother . . . is when a man dies, he is cast into the earth . . . and there is an end of the matter."
"And do you think that is the end of man?"
"There's an end to him, brother, more's the pity."
"Why do you say so?"
"Life is sweet, brother."
"Do you think so?"
"Think so! There's night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon and stars, brother, all sweet things; there's likewise a wind in the heath. Life is very sweet, brother, who would wish to die?"
"I would wish to die . . ."
"You talk like a gorgio - which is the same thing as talking like a fool - were you a Romany Chal you would talk wiser. Wish to die, indeed, A Romany Chal would wish to live for ever."
"In sickness, Jasper?"
"There's the sun and stars, brother."
"In blindness, Jasper?"
"There's the wind on the heath, brother; if I could only feel that, I would gladly live for ever . . .”