Crime (n.) is an injustice, period, and we commit a crime against criminals by treating them like rascals.
Crime (n.) is a matter of circumstance — which of us, favored by circumstance, would not have gone through its entire gamut? Say not "you should not have done this," but "how strange I have not done it a hundred times before!"
Crime (n.) is, for sickly "idealists," the great justification of a pale existence — payment for long cowardice, one moment of strength, of which they then perish.
Crime (n.) belongs to greatness: all great human beings have been criminals — in the grand, not the miserable, style.
Crime (n.) is something we would be capable of committing just to see what this talk of the pangs of conscience is about.
Crime (n.) belongs under 'rebellion against the social order': a rebel is not punished but suppressed — and some rebels deserve honour for rousing us from our slumber.
Crime (n.) is absent from our conscience only because circumstances were lacking — not everyone is capable of a few crimes, and almost all crimes express qualities a man should not lack.