"Why should a man's handwriting change?" Foster said.
"Well, it might get a little shaky there toward the last, don't you agree?"
"Why is that?"
"I'll spell it out, Foster," I said. "Most people don't live that long. A hundred years is stretching it, to say nothing of two."
"This must be a very violent world, then," Foster said.
"Skip it," I said. "You talk like you're just visiting. By the way; do you remember how to write?"
Foster looked thoughtful. "Yes," he said. "I can write."
I handed him the book and the stylus. "Try it," I said. Foster opened to a blank page, wrote, and handed the book back to me.
"Always and always and always," I read.
I looked at Foster. "What does that mean?" I looked at the words again, then quickly flipped to the pages written in English. I was no expert on penmanship, but this came up and cracked me right in the eye.