Never mind the past; my fight is with the future, and so--examine me, Sir Horace, and let me know if I or Fate's to blame for what I am." Sir Horace did.
"Absolutely Fate," he said, when, after a long examination, the man put the question to him again.

"It is the criminal brain fully developed, horribly pronounced.

God help you, my poor fellow; but a man simply could not be other than a thief and a criminal with an organ like that.
There's no hope for you to escape your natural bent except by death.

You can't be honest.

You can't rise--you never will rise; it's useless to fight against it!" "I will fight against it! I will rise! I will! I will! I will!" he cried out vehemently.