'A took my father grossly, full of bread,
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
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'A took my father grossly, full of bread,
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And how his audit stands, who knows save heaven?

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.

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.

Kill a man, and you are an assassin. Kill millions of men, and
you are a conqueror. Kill everyone, read more

Kill a man, and you are an assassin. Kill millions of men, and
you are a conqueror. Kill everyone, and you are a god.

Murder most foul, as in the best it is,
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

Murder most foul, as in the best it is,
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.

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

One murder made a villain,
Millions a hero.--Princes were privileg'd
To kill, and numbers sanctified the crime.
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One murder made a villain,
Millions a hero.--Princes were privileg'd
To kill, and numbers sanctified the crime.
Ah! why will kings forget that they are men,
And men that they are brethren?

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
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O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
That ever lived in the tide of times.
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!

Probably the toughest time in anyone's life is when you have to murder a loved one because they're the devil.

Probably the toughest time in anyone's life is when you have to murder a loved one because they're the devil.