The things that happen here do not seem to mean anything; they mean something somewhere else. Somewhere else retribution will come on the real offender. Here it often seems to fall on the wrong person.

Very few reputations are gained by unsullied virtue.

To be clever enough to get all that money, one must be stupid enough to want it.

One can sometimes do good by being the right person in the wrong place.

I've heard it said that jail stinks of despair. What a load. If jail stinks of any emotion, it's fear: fear of the guards, fear of being beaten or gang-raped, …

Walk with me world, upon my right hand walk, speak to me Babel, that I may strive to assemble of all these syllables a single word before the purpose of speech…

Looking back on things, the view always improves.