thereupon he robbed when he murdered. He did not mean to be ashamed of his
madness.

And now once more lieth the lead of his guilt upon him, and once more is
his weak reason so benumbed, so paralysed, and so dull.

Could he only shake his head, then would his burden roll off; but who
shaketh that head?

What is this man? A mass of diseases that reach out into the world through
the spirit; there they want to get their prey.

What is this man? A coil of wild serpents that are seldom at peace among
themselves--so they go forth apart and seek prey in the world.

Look at that poor body! What it suffered and craved, the poor soul
interpreted to itself--it interpreted it as murderous desire, and eagerness
for the happiness of the knife.

Him who now turneth sick, the evil overtaketh which is now the evil: he
seeketh to cause pain with that which causeth him pain. But there have
been other ages, and another evil and good.

Once was doubt evil, and the will to Self. Then the invalid became a
heretic or sorcerer; as heretic or sorcerer he suffered, and sought to
cause suffering.

But this will not enter your ears; it hurteth your good people, ye tell me.
But what doth it matter to me about your good people!