It Is Stupidity Rather Than

Strange Indeed Is Human Nature. Here Were These Men, To Whom Murder Was Familiar, Who Again And Again Had Struck Down The Father Of The Family, Some Man Against Whom They Had No Personal Feeling, Without One Thought Of Compunction Or Of Compassion For His Weeping Wife Or Helpless Children, And Yet The Tender Or Pathetic In Music Could Move Them To Tears.

When We Think How Narrow And Devious This Path Of Nature Is, How Dimly We Can Trace It, For All Our Lamps Of Science, And How From The Darkness Which Girds It Round Great And Terrible Possibilities Loom Ever Shadowly Upwards, It Is A Bold And A Confident Man Who Will Put A Limit To The Strange By-oaths Into Which The Human Spirit May Wander.

I Am Not The Law, But I Represent Justice So Far As My Feeble Powers Go.

Life, My Dear Watson, Is Infinitely Stranger Than Fiction; Stranger Than Anything Which The Mind Of Man Could Invent. We Could Not Conceive The Things That Are Merely Commonplace To Existence. If We Could Hover Over This Great City, Remove The Roofs, And Peep In At The Things Going On, It Would Make All Fiction, With Its Conventionalities And Foreseen Conclusions Flat, Stale And Unprofitable.

Circumstantial Evidence Is Occasionally Very Convincing, As When You Find A Trout In The Milk, To Quote Thoreau's Example.