You're going downhill this year, James," [the doctor] says to me, but I am eighty-three. What can you expect? "If you mean my chest is worse," I said to him, "I will accept your judgement as a medical man, but don't tell me I'm going downhill. The road climbs upwards, upwards to the light. It must do. It wouldn't be such hard going if it was going downhill."
The Wounds of God, Penelope Wilcock