The Surest Test Of Discipline Is Its

I Wonder If A Soldier Ever Does Mend A Bullet Hole In His Coat?

I Went To The Senate, Accomplished Nothing As Usual.

It Irritates Me To Be Told How Things Have Always Been Done. I Defy The Tyranny Of Precedent. I Cannot Afford The Luxury Of A Closed Mind.

If I Were To Speak Of War, It Would Not Be To Show You The Glories Of Conquering Armies But The Mischief And Misery They Strew In Their Tracks; And How, While They Marched On With Tread Of Iron And Plumes Proudly Tossing In The Breeze, Some One Must Follow Closely In Their Steps, Crouching To The Earth, Toiling In The Rain And Darkness, Shelterless Themselves, With No Thought Of Pride Or Glory, Fame Or Praise, Or Reward; Hearts Breaking With Pity, Faces Bathed In Tears And Hands In Blood. This Is The Side Which History Never Shows.

What Armies And How Much Of War I Have Seen, What Thousands Of Marching Troops, What Fields Of Slain, What Prisons, What Hospitals, What Ruins, What Cities In Ashes, What Hunger And Nakedness, What Orphanages, What Widowhood, What Wrongs And What Vengeance.