Murderers are not monsters, they're men. And that's the most frightening thing about them.
God remains dead. And we have killed him. Yet his shadow still looms. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?
Female murderers get sheaves of offers of marriage.
Truly, whoever we are, wherever we reside, we exist upon the whim of murderers.
If I'm playing a murderer, I don't go out and start murdering people.
You can put a murderer in a suit, and hes still a murderer.
My mission is to kill time, and time's to kill me in its turn. How comfortable one is among murderers.
The death penalty makes us all murderers.
Besides, who wants to read about success, anyway? Successful serial murderers, maybe.
Kill one man, and you are murderer