Fiction intended to please, should resemble truth as much as possible.
Pale death knocks with impartial foot at poor men's hovels and king's palaces.
There are words and accents by which this grief can be assuaged, and the disease in a great measure removed.
Be this our wall of brass, to be conscious of having done no evil, and to grow pale at no accusation.
There is need of brevity, that the thought may run on.
Don't waste the opportunity.