Words I found amazing today came from Dr William Petit regarding the death penalty delivered to one of two home intruders who murdered his wife and daughters:

This is a verdict for justice.

God will be the final arbiter.

Punishment from the Lord is greater than [the convicted] will face from mankind.

Tortured and killed in her own bedroom surrounded by stuffed animals.

Can't make it better, but can keep going.

Hole with jagged edges.

Vengeance belongs to the Lord, this is justice.

Fore more than 18 minutes he spoke to a media crowd, its cameras clicking, flashes throwing light, and voices trampled by the wind.

Today, running across a leaf-covered ground with its pockets of slush just cold enough in the shadows to survive sunrise, I left behind me the season's first string of footprints.

As I scrambled through a forest forever shifting, Dr Petit said goodbye for the millionth time to a family ripped from him.

Neither bitter nor intentionally angry and unkind, his words lacked forgiveness; they were a beautiful field of fresh snow unmarred by sympathy.

Lord or no Lord, and God or no God, Mr Petit suggested that his family's killers would face something uglier and more frightening than simple, fleeting, painless death.

Some people shouldn't make it past their second breath, but how would we ever know?

Winter is in the forecast and Monday's early darkness and frigid gray start tainted everyone.