What is the effect of the imagery in these lines

Which two passages in this excerpt from the death of ivan illych does leo tolstoy use to suggest that ivan ilych feels like his life is slipping away from him? "what's the use? it makes no difference," he said to himself, staring with wide-open eyes into the darkness. "death. yes, death. and none of them knows or wishes to know it, and they have no pity for me. now they are playing." (he heard through the door the distant sound of a song and its accompaniment.) "it's all the same to them, but they will die too! fools! i first, and they later, but it will be the same for them. and now they are merry . . the beasts! " anger choked him and he was agonizingly, unbearably miserable. "it is impossible that all men have been doomed to suffer this awful horror! " he raised himself. "something must be wrong. i must calm myself—must think it all over from the beginning." and he again began thinking. "yes, the beginning of my illness: i knocked my side, but i was still quite well that day and the next. it hurt a little, then rather more. i saw the doctors, then followed despondency and anguish, more doctors, and i drew nearer to the abyss. my strength grew less and i kept coming nearer and nearer, and now i have wasted away and there is no light in my eyes.

Brutus: but as he was ambitious, i slew him. . who is here so base that would be a bondman? if any, speak, for him have i offended. who is here so rude that would not be a roman? if any, speak, for him have i offended. who is here so vile that will not love his country? if any, speak, for him have i offended. i pause for a reply. which rhetorical device does brutus use in this excerpt?

What is the effect of narrator's word choice on the tone of this passage? the words "my heart shrank within itself" create a fearful tone. the words "wounded his fellow" develop a remorseful tone. the words "struck harsh upon my ears" suggest an irritated tone. the words "better-omened" set a hopeful tone. excerpt from "the cabuliwallah" by rabindranath tagore i was sitting in my study, looking through the accounts, when some one entered, saluting respectfully, and stood before me. it was rahmun the cabuliwallah. at first i did not recognise him. he had no bag, nor the long hair, nor the same vigour that he used to have. but he smiled, and i knew him again. "when did you come, rahmun? " i asked him. "last evening," he said, "i was released from jail." the words struck harsh upon my ears. i had never before talked with one who had wounded his fellow, and my heart shrank within itself when i realised this; for i felt that the day would have been better-omened had he not turned up.