I think I understand what military fame is; to be killed on the field of battle and have your name misspelled in the newspapers.

There will soon come an armed contest between capital and labor. They will oppose each other, not with words and arguments, but with shot and shell, gun-powder and cannon. The better classes are tired of the insane howling of the lower strata and they mean to stop them.

My aim, then, was to whip the rebels, to humble their pride, to follow them to their inmost recesses, and make them fear and dread us. Fear is the beginning of wisdom.

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.

In our Country… one class of men makes war and leaves another to fight it out.

War is too serious a matter to leave to soldiers.

Every attempt to make war easy and safe will result in humiliation and disaster.

I beg to present you as a Christmas gift the city of Savannah.

I would make this war as severe as possible, and show no symptoms of tiring till the South begs for mercy.

If you don’t have my army supplied, and keep it supplied, we’ll eat your mules up, sir.

If forced to choose between the penitentiary and the White House for four years, I would say the penitentiary, thank you.

But, my dear sirs, when peace does come, you may call on me for any thing. Then will I share with you the last cracker, and watch with you to shield your homes and families against danger from every quarter.

I intend to make Georgia howl.

I think I understand what military fame is; to be killed on the field of battle and have your name misspelled in the newspapers.

An Army is a collection of armed men obliged to obey one man. Every change in the rules which impairs the principle weakens the army.

You cannot qualify war in harsher terms than I will.

War is the remedy that our enemies have chosen, and I say let us give them all they want.

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.

Courage – a perfect sensibility of the measure of danger, and a mental willingness to endure it.

He belonged to that army known as invincible in peace, invisible in war.

War is cruelty. There is no use trying to reform it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over.

The scenes on this field would have cured anybody of war.

The voice of the people is the voice of humbug.

It’s a disagreeable thing to be whipped.

A battery of field artillery is worth a thousand muskets.

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.

This war differs from other wars, in this particular. We are not fighting armies but a hostile people, and must make old and young, rich and poor, feel the hard hand of war.

There is many a boy here today who looks on war as all glory, but, boys, it is all hell.

You may as well say, ‘That’s a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.

Grant stood by me when I was crazy, and I stood by him when he was drunk, and now we stand by each other.

I will accept no commission that would tend to create a rivalry with Grant. I want him to hold what he has earned and got. I have all the rank I want.

War is hell.

There’s many a boy here today who looks on war as all glory but it is all hell.

My aim then was to whip the rebels, to humble their pride, to follow them to their inmost recesses, and make them fear and dread us.

If nominated, I will not run; if elected, I will not serve.

War is at its best barbarism.

I know I had no hand in making this war, and I know I will make more sacrifices today than any of you to secure peace.

I make up my opinions from facts and reasoning, and not to suit any body but myself. If people don’t like my opinions, it makes little difference as I don’t solicit their opinions or votes.

It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, more vengeance, more desolation. War is hell.

If the people raise a great howl against my barbarity and cruelty, I will answer that war is war, and not popularity seeking.