A Battery Of Field Artillery Is Worth

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.

Grant Stood By Me When I Was Crazy.

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.

You People Of The South Don't Know What You Are Doing. This Country Will Be Drenched In Blood, And God Only Knows How It Will End. It Is All Folly, Madness, A Crime Against Civilization! You People Speak So Lightly Of War; You Don't Know What You're Talking About.

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.