You Might As Well Appeal Against The

I See Every Chance Of A Long, Confused And Disorganizing Civil War, And I Feel No Desire To Take A Hand Therein.

I Am Tired And Sick Of War. Its Glory Is All Moonshine. It Is Only Those Who Have Neither Fired A Shot Nor Heard The Shrieks And Groans Of The Wounded Who Cry Aloud For Blood, For Vengeance, For Desolation. War Is Hell.

In Our Country... One Class Of Men Makes War And Leaves Another To Fight It Out.

You Might As Well Appeal Against The Thunderstorm.

If I Had My Choice I Would Kill Every Reporter In The World, But I Am Sure We Would Be Getting Reports From Hell Before Breakfast.