All men will persist in thinking all men mortal but themselves.
If there were a great monster in the city of London,
which every day ate ten of the inhabitants of London alive,
we should be dreadfully miserable, especially if we never
knew when it would be our turn to be eaten too.
If we were certain that it would eat all in London by-and-bye,
but would only eat ten in a week, we should all tremble
as we passed by the huge monster's den, and say-
"When will it be my time?" and that would cast a cloud over
the whole metropolis, blacker than its usual fog.
But here is a monster, DEATH, which devours its hundreds at
its meal; and with its iron tongue the funeral knell keeps
crying out for more;
its greedy and insatiable throat never being filled;
its teeth never being blunted;
its ravenous hunger never being stayed.
And here we are, and though it will be our turn by-and-bye
to be devoured of this great monster, yet how little do we
think about it!
All men will persist in thinking all men mortal but themselves.