Murder is always a mistake - one should never do anything one cannot talk about after dinner

Murder is always a mistake - one should never do anything one cannot talk about after dinner

George Tenet's charm
covers his arms
as a velvet sheath
covers a bloodied sword.
***
George Tenet head of Murder read more

George Tenet's charm
covers his arms
as a velvet sheath
covers a bloodied sword.
***
George Tenet head of Murder Inc. whose agency has
had Afghanis die under their interrogation
cannot be trusted not to plant WMD's in Iraq.

Mordre wol out, that see we day by day.

Mordre wol out, that see we day by day.

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.

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

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

Carcasses bleed at the sight of the murderer.

Carcasses bleed at the sight of the murderer.

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.

Blood hath been shed ere now, i' th' olden time,
Ere humane stature purged the gentle weal;
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Blood hath been shed ere now, i' th' olden time,
Ere humane stature purged the gentle weal;
Ay, and since too, murders have been performed
Too terrible for the ear. The time has been
That, when the brains were out, the man would die,
And there an end. But now they rise again,
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
And push us from our stools. This is more strange
Than such a murder is.

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!