Most fires made by underestimated sparks, the greatness fire inside ourselves is lit by the spark of the change, came across a small corner in our souls where the conscience still whispering.

The real greatness tends to be a verb much more than an adjective, and it’s a duty preceding been an honour.

With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall.

I have no conscience, none, but I would not like to bring a soul into this world. When it sinned and when it suffered something like a dead hand would fall on me, -- ''You did it, you, for your own pleasure you created this thing! See your work!'' If it lived to be eighty it would always hang like a millstone round my neck, have the right to demand good from me, and curse me for its sorrow. A parent is only like to God: if his work turns out bad so much the worse for him; he dare not wash his hands of it. Time and years can never bring the day when you can say to your child, ''Soul, what have I to do with you?''

I think the jury did a darned good job. This man has no soul, no conscience. What else could we ask for?

That man has no soul, no conscience.