A Bold Onset Is Half The Battle.

If These Hands, Used To Fighting, Would Be Acceptable To His Holiness, We Most Thankfully Dedicate Them To The Service Of Him Who Deserves So Well Of The Church And Of The Fatherland.

Bacchus Has Drowned More Men Than Neptune.

I Offer Neither Pay, Nor Quarters, Nor Food; I Offer Only Hunger, Thirst, Forced Marches, Battles And Death. Let Him Who Loves His Country With His Heart, And Not Merely With His Lips, Follow Me.

Men, I'm Getting Out Of Rome. Anyone Who Wants To Carry On The War Against The Outsiders, Come With Me. I Can Offer You Neither Honours Nor Wages; I Offer You Hunger, Thirst, Forced Marches, Battles And Death. Anyone Who Loves His Country, Follow Me

Ah, No, Far Be From Me A Thought Which I Loathe Like Poison.