Bacchus Has Drowned More Men Than Neptune.

Let Him Who Loves His Country In His Heart, And Not His Lips Only, Follow Me.

Men, I'm Getting Out Of Rome. Anyone Who Wants To Carry On The War Against The Outsiders, Come With Me. I Can Offer You Neither Honours Nor Wages; I Offer You Hunger, Thirst, Forced Marches, Battles And Death. Anyone Who Loves His Country, Follow Me

Let Those Only Return To Their Homes Who Are Called By The Imperative Duties Which They Owe To Their Families, And Those Who By Their Glorious Wounds Have Deserved The Credit Of Their Country.

I Utter This Word With Deepest Affection And From The Very Bottom Of My Heart.

To This Wonderful Page In Our Country's History Another More Glorious Still Will Be Added, And The Slave Shall Show At Last To His Free Brothers A Sharpened Sword Forged From The Links Of His Fetters.