I Intend To Make Georgia Howl.

I Confess, Without Shame, That I Am Sick And Tired Of Fighting — Its Glory Is All Moonshine; Even Success The Most Brilliant Is Over Dead And Mangled Bodies, With The Anguish And Lamentations Of Distant Families, Appealing To Me For Sons, Husbands, And Fathers ... It Is Only Those Who Have Never Heard A Shot, Never Heard The Shriek And Groans Of The Wounded And Lacerated ... That Cry Aloud For More Blood, More Vengeance, More Desolation.

I Will Not Accept If Nominated, And Will Not Serve If Elected.

To Those Who Would Submit To The Rightful Law And Authority, All Gentleness And Forbearance; But To The Petulant And Persistent Secessionists, Why, Death Is Mercy, And The Quicker He Or She Is Disposed Of The Better. Satan And The Rebellious Saints Of Heaven Were Allowed A Continuous Existence In Hell Merely To Swell Their Just Punishment. To Such As Would Rebel Against A Government So Mild And Just As Ours Was In Peace, A Punishment Equal Would Not Be Unjust.

To Secure The Safety Of The Navigation Of The Mississippi River I Would Slay Millions. On That Point I Am Not Only Insane, But Mad... I Think I See One Or Two Quick Blows That Will Astonish The Natives Of The South And Will Convince Them That, Though To Stand Behind A Big Cottonwood And Shoot At A Passing Boat Is Good Sport And Safe, It May Still Reach And Kill Their Friends And Families Hundreds Of Miles Off. For Every Bullet Shot At A Steamboat, I Would Shoot A Thousand 30-pounder Parrots Into Even Helpless Towns On Red, Ouachita, Yazoo, Or Wherever A Boat Can Float Or Soldier March.

War Is Cruelty, And You Cannot Refine It.