War Is Too Serious A Matter To

I'm A Damned Sight Smarter Than Grant; I Know More About Organization, Supply And Administration And About Everything Else Than He Does; But I'll Tell You Where He Beats Me And Where He Beats The World. He Don't Care A Damn For What The Enemy Does Out Of His Sight But It Scares Me Like Hell.

I Begin To Regard The Death And Mangling Of A Couple Thousand Men As A Small Affair, A Kind Of Morning Dash-and It May Be Well That We Become So Hardened.

War's Legitimate Object Is More Perfect Peace.

An Army Is A Collection Of Armed Men Obliged To Obey One Man. Every Enactment, Every Change Of Rule Which Impairs This Principle Weakens The Army, Impairs Its Value, And Defeats The Very Object Of Its Existence.

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.