Manus Vessalis

Tradition tells how that a certain Samaritan, good once left his journey to make his home among men. Through towns he'd wandered and places long forgotten he passed. Never stopping though his journey in his search for all that'd been left, forgotten about or broken that came from his having left home far off as he'd sought such of men. He'd set about on his journey though saddle-sore at times and weary and bruised. This business of continual traveling it seems wasn't for the faint-hearted nor was the continual search of which he'd been exceptionally wearied now and again. One day his riding took place through some towns since walking was better by far than half of what the rest were then doing. Though in his journey he hadn't opportunity to see these in action except for the tales of destruction wrought and also of cruelty, hatred, despised by many, and so being was borne among men. Lest though, you'd think the story merely self-centered, oh no but not really. His search took him to the roadside where some now lay empty, broken, and beaten up of the few. This some took the shape of a man laid out in the road and the rest, still hurting inside, chose to walk by on behalf of themselves not as though they could've done anything about his hopeless condition nor yet spared him a poisoner's cure still in the bargain. From there, this Samaritan, being yet a stranger who'd wandered very much without hope or a place took for granted, somehow found the heart to forgive now that his rage had gone missing and the oil and wine with it still was returned to back home in the end.