..."Murder to me is no special category," replied the other. "All sins are murder, even as life is war. I behold your race, like starving mariners on a raft, plucking crusts out of the hands of famine and feeding on eachother's lives. I follow sins beyond the moment of their acting; I find in all tht the last consequence is death; and to my eyes the pretty who thwarts her mother with such taking graces on a question of a ball, dips no less visibly with human gore then such a murder as yourself. Do I say that I follow sins? I follow virtues also; they differ not by the thickness of a nail, they are both sythes for the reaping of the Angel of Death. Evil, for which I live, consists not in action but in character. The bad man is dear to me, not the bad act, whose fruits, if we could follow them far enough down the hurtling cataract of the ages, might yet be found more blessed than those of the rarest virtues"... Taken from "Markheim" by, Robert Lewis Stevenson