“For glory gives herself only to those who have always dreamed of her.”

France has no friends, only interests.

Silence is the ultimate weapon of power.

Betting against gold is the same as betting on governments. He who bets on governments and government money bets against 6,000 years of recorded human history.

In war, the policy of least exertion always risks being paid for dearly.

Character is the virtue of hard times.

Adversity attracts the man of character. He seeks out the bitter joy of responsibility.

You may be sure that the Americans will commit all the stupidities they can think of, plus some that are beyond imagination.

Treaties are like roses and young girls. They last while they last.

One can unite the French only under the threat of danger. One cannot simply bring together a nation that produces 265 kinds of cheese.

In the tumult of great events, solitude was what I hoped for. Now it is what I love. How is it possible to be contented with anything else when one has come face to face with history?

Faced with crisis, the man of character falls back on himself. He imposes his own stamp of action, takes responsibility for it, makes it his own.

It’s better to have a bad plan then no plan at all.

The better I get to know men, the more I find myself loving dogs.

It’s impossible in normal times to rally a nation that has 265 kinds of cheese.

Victory often goes to the army that makes the least mistakes, not the most brilliant plans.

He who laughs last didn’t get the joke.

See your life as a giant adventure. Keep pushing the envelope, and remember that every dream starts off small.

Imagine her to be more then just – a dream.

A world I dream where black or white, Whatever race you be, Will share the bounties of the Earth And every man is free.

Focus on your dream and do everything in your power. You have the power to change your life circumstances.

Every person you meet has a lesson to teach, a story to tell and a dream to share.

There’s a certain amount of traveling in a dream deferred.

A thousand Dreams within me softly burn: From time to time my heart is like some oak Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.

I dreamed in skies of blue before september stole all the light.