_No puppet master pulls the strings on high,
Portioning our parts, the tinsel and the paint:
A twisted nerve, a ganglion gone awry,
Predestinates the sinner and the saint._
_Each, held more firmly than by hempen band,
Slave of his entrails, struts across the scene:
The malnutrition of some obscure gland
Makes him a Ripper or the Nazarene._