Drunkards Three, Frank Sinatra's doing flanked by this pair of wasted rumdums... While nobles are crying in their nights' chains, the squires sing... the Grail... the magic cape... a dog... an albatross... opiates of the people... Wimpe smiled back... getting other people to die for you... Religion was always about death... Die to help History... why not die?
"But you haven't ever had the choice to make, have you."
"If I ever did, you can be sure-"
"You don't know. NOt till you're there, Wimpe. You can't say."
"That doesn't sound very dialectical."
"I don't know what it is."