I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you. It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs... And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you,—you’d forget me.

"Do you know where the wicked go after death?”
“They go to hell"
“And what is hell? Can you tell me that?”
“A pit full of fire.”
“And should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?”
“No, sir.”
“What must you do to avoid it?”
“I must keep in good health, and not die.”