In truth, in my judgment, they were all mad.

There was a plague of them.

They cast out devils by magic charms, cured diseases by the laying on of hands, drank deadly poisons unharmed, and unharmed played with deadly snakes--or so they claimed.
They ran away to starve in the deserts.

They emerged howling new doctrine, gathering crowds about them, forming new sects that split on doctrine and formed more sects.
"By Odin," I told Pilate, "a trifle of our northern frost and snow would cool their wits.

This climate is too soft.