You Might As Well Appeal Against The

I Hate Newspapermen. They Come Into Camp And Pick Up Their Camp Rumors And Print Them As Facts. I Regard Them As Spies, Which, In Truth, They Are.

We Can Make War So Terrible And Make Them So Sick Of War That Generations Pass Away Before They Again Appeal To It.

You Might As Well Appeal Against The Thunder-storm As Against These Terrible Hardships Of War. They Are Inevitable, And The Only Way The People Of Atlanta Can Hope Once More To Live In Peace And Quiet At Home, Is To Stop The War, Which Can Only Be Done By Admitting That It Began In Error And Is Perpetuated In Pride.

If You Don't Have My Army Supplied, And Keep It Supplied, We'll Eat Your Mules Up, Sir.

You May As Well Say, 'that's A Valiant Flea That Dare Eat His Breakfast On The Lip Of A Lion.