Justice (n.) is fools-play in human hands: prosecution and defense are Harlequin and Pierrot, justice a Cassandra led by the nose — the only tolerable figure is the executioner.
Justice (n.) gives each his own and demands its own; when revolution, war or earthquake throws everything into confusion, it cannot hold the balance — it throws the scales away and despairs.
Justice (n.) is a fateful word to speak to God about another's wrong: whoever rests in God's love will speak to Him only about grace, lest “justice” make him forfeit everything through the strict like for like he himself evoked.
Justice (n.) is friendship broadened until the two coalesce — grounded not in abstract duty but in the social sense.
Justice (n.) limps, and the witness to truth strides too far ahead for it to catch him while he lives; it catches up at the grave, and time's foreshortening makes us think he was honoured all along.