“There is many a boy here today who looks on war as all glory, but, boys, it is all hell.”

But, my dear sirs, when peace does come, you may call on me for any thing. Then will I share with you the last cracker, and watch with you to shield your homes and families against danger from every quarter.

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.

If I had my choice I would kill every reporter in the world, but I am sure we would be getting reports from Hell before breakfast.

The scenes on this field would have cured anybody of war.

My aim then was to whip the rebels, to humble their pride, to follow them to their inmost recesses, and make them fear and dread us.

You may as well say, ‘That’s a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.

If nominated, I will not run; if elected, I will not serve.

If you don’t have my army supplied, and keep it supplied, we’ll eat your mules up, sir.

My aim, then, was to whip the rebels, to humble their pride, to follow them to their inmost recesses, and make them fear and dread us.

Courage – a perfect sensibility of the measure of danger, and a mental willingness to endure it.

If the people raise a great howl against my barbarity and cruelty.

Grant stood by me when I was crazy, and I stood by him when he was drunk, and now we stand by each other.

There will soon come an armed contest between capital and labor. They will oppose each other, not with words and arguments, but with shot and shell, gun-powder and cannon.

If people don’t like my opinions, it makes little difference as I don’t solicit their opinions or votes.

In our Country… one class of men makes war and leaves another to fight it out.

If forced to choose between the penitentiary and the White House for four years, I would say the penitentiary, thank you.