Pale Death beats equally at the poor man's gate and at the palaces of kings.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Pale death, with impartial step, knocks at the hut of the poor and the towers of kings.
Death is the king of this world: 'Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet.
Death comes for us all. Even for kings he comes.
And how can man die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his Gods?
The king must die so that the country can live.
The miser, starving his brother's body, starves also his own soul, and at death shall creep out of his great estate of injustice, poor and naked and miserable.
As a boy I used to go to the Chamber of Horrors at the annual fair, to look at the wax figures of Emperors and Kings, of heroes and murderers of the day. The dead now had that same unreality, which shocks without arousing pity.
Near the gates and within two cities there will be scourges the like of which was never seen: famine within plague, people put out by steel, crying to the great immortal God for relief.
Death most resembles a prophet who is without honor in his own land or a poet who is a stranger among his people.
Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.
No opposing quotes found.