Mortality (n.) troubles us for filling only a small span of time, though we never mind that our bodies fill only a small portion of space.
Mortality (n.) belongs even in a goodnight kiss: as you kiss your son, whisper to yourself, "He may be dead in the morning."
Mortality (n.) swallowed even the mockers of mortality: Menippus and his kind who laughed at how short life is are long dead too.
Mortality (n.) can be rehearsed in a mirror: picture the dead emperors gazing back, ask where they are now, and answer — nowhere.
Mortality (n.) spares no expert: doctors die after frowning over deathbeds, astrologers after forecasting others' ends, philosophers after endless talk of immortality.
Mortality (n.) spares no expert: Hippocrates cured many and died sick; the astrologers foretold deaths and were surprised by their own; lice killed Democritus.
Mortality (n.) is the doctor who frowned over so many patients, now dead himself; the man who arranged a funeral and was soon buried; whole cities — Helice, Pompeii, Herculaneum — dead and gone.