Just one drop of poison in a vast reservoir wouldn't do any harm, the death merchant reasoned.
For $50, would you throw it in?
I laughed at him. I didn’t want to risk polluting the water we all must drink from.
How about $500?
I wondered, was this guy serious? Even though such a tiny bit of the noxious fluid couldn’t really hurt, it was sort of a ridiculous thing to suggest.
What would it take to persuade you? $5,000? $25,000? He pressed on. $100,000 a year plus paid vacations? Think of all the people you could help with that kind of money.
Now, he was starting to make more sense. Could it perhaps, be worth a minor compromise, a small infraction, to be able to be in the position to give aid to many? Weren’t there cases when the end did justify the means? Besides, it was just one drop of poison—easily diluted by such a vast reservoir.
But it was only after I had succumbed to his abundant persuasion that I noticed all the other people walking away from the water banks, with empty vials of poison and pockets full of the wages of sin.

~by Linda Kling