Blood, though it sleep a time, yet never dies.
The gods on murtherers fix revengeful eyes.

Blood, though it sleep a time, yet never dies.
The gods on murtherers fix revengeful eyes.

No place indeed should murder sanctuarize;
Revenge should have no bounds.

No place indeed should murder sanctuarize;
Revenge should have no bounds.

Carcasses bleed at the sight of the murderer.

Carcasses bleed at the sight of the murderer.

Mordre wol out, that see we day by day.

Mordre wol out, that see we day by day.

Maybe this is why so many serial killers work in pairs. It's nice not to feel alone in a world read more

Maybe this is why so many serial killers work in pairs. It's nice not to feel alone in a world full of victims or enemies. It's no wonder Waltraud Wagner, the Austrian Angel of Death, convinced her friends to kill with her.It just seems natural. You and me against the world...

Criminals do not die by the hands of the law; they die by the hands of other men.

Criminals do not die by the hands of the law; they die by the hands of other men.

A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at read more

A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at the gates is less formidable, for he is known and carries his banner openly. But the traitor moves amongst those within the gate freely, his sly whispers rustling through all the alleys, heard in the very halls of government itself. For the traitor appears not a traitor; he speaks in accents familiar to his victims, and he wears their face and their arguments, he appeals to the baseness that lies deep in the hearts of all men. He rots the soul of a nation, he works secretly and unknown in the night to undermine the pillars of the city, he infects the body politic so that it can no longer resist. A murderer is less to fear. The traitor is the plague.

Nor is there any law more just, than that he who has plotted
death shall perish by his own read more

Nor is there any law more just, than that he who has plotted
death shall perish by his own plot.
[Lat., Neque enim lex est aequior ulla,
Quam necis artifices arte perire sua.]

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
read more

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green one red.