“The social damage was not in the failure but in the undertaking, which was expensive. The cost of war was the poison running through the 14th century.”

The fact of being reported increases the apparent extent of a deplorable development by a factor of ten.

Theology being the work of males, original sin was traced to the female.

The muffled tongue of Big Ben tolled nine by the clock as the cortege left the palace, but on history’s clock it was sunset, and the sun of the old world was setting in a dying blaze of splendor never to be seen again.

Business, like a jackal, trotted on the heels of war.

Woman was the Church’s rival, the temptress, the distraction, the obstacle to holiness, the Devil’s decoy.

When commerce with Moslems flourished, zeal for their massacre declined.

It is wiser, I believe, to arrive at theory by way of evidence rather than the other way around…. It is more rewarding, in any case, to assemble the facts first and, in the process of arranging them in narrative form, to discover a theory or a historical generalization emerging of its own accord.

Russians, in the knowledge of inexhaustible supplies of manpower, are accustomed to accepting gigantic fatalities with comparative calm.

Belgium, where there occurred one of the rare appearances of the hero in history, was lifted above herself by the uncomplicated conscience of her King and, faced with the choice to acquiesce or resist, took less than three hours to make her decision, knowing it might be mortal.

To be right and overruled is not forgiven to persons in responsible positions.

To be a bestseller is not necessarily a measure of quality, but it is a measure of communication.

Arguments can always be found to turn desire into policy.

For most people reform meant relief from ecclesiastical extortions.

One constant among the elements of 1914—as of any era—was the disposition of everyone on all sides not to prepare for the harder alternative, not to act upon what they suspected to be true.

War is the unfolding of miscalculations.

The appetite for power is old and irrepressible in humankind, and in its action almost always destructive.

Feminists hate me, don’t they? And I don’t blame them. For I hate feminism. It is poison.

Thinking of you is a poison I drink often.

Honey, you are so sweet that I suspect you want to poison me.

Veins has always been a weakness for her and that lead to the flowing of self destructive poison for her life.

Hope is a poison we drink too often.

He is my heaven and my hell. Serving passion and poison with the same spoon, and i am a sucker for a taste.

If we found out tomorrow that oxygen was poisonous I would try to spend forever in your exhales.

When you are starved for a moment of relief, you’ll eat their poison by the mouth full, no questions until the digestion leads to new problems.