The Only Good Indian Is A Dead

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.

To Those Who Would Submit To The Rightful Law And Authority, All Gentleness And Forbearance; But To The Petulant And Persistent Secessionists, Why, Death Is Mercy, And The Quicker He Or She Is Disposed Of The Better. Satan And The Rebellious Saints Of Heaven Were Allowed A Continuous Existence In Hell Merely To Swell Their Just Punishment. To Such As Would Rebel Against A Government So Mild And Just As Ours Was In Peace, A Punishment Equal Would Not Be Unjust.

After All, I Think Forrest Was The Most Remarkable Man Our Civil War Produced On Either Side.

At First You Will Make Headway, But As Your Limited Resources Begin To Fail, Shut Out From The Markets Of Europe As You Will Be, Your Cause Will Begin To Wane. If Your People Will But Stop And Think, They Must See That In The End You Will Surely Fail.

War Is The Remedy That Our Enemies Have Chosen, And I Say Let Us Give Them All They Want.