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.

I have learned from an early age to abjured the use of meat, and the time will come when men read more

I have learned from an early age to abjured the use of meat, and the time will come when men such as I will look upon the murder of animals as they now look upon the murder of men

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.

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.

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ.

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ.

One to destroy is murder by the law,
And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe;
To read more

One to destroy is murder by the law,
And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe;
To murder thousands takes a specious name,
War's glorious art, and gives immortal fame.

You also, O son Brutus.
[Lat., Et tu, Brute fili.]

You also, O son Brutus.
[Lat., Et tu, Brute fili.]

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?

'A took my father grossly, full of bread,
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
read more

'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?