“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.”

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.

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

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

War is hell.

A battery of field artillery is worth a thousand muskets.

I intend to make Georgia howl.

I beg to present you as a Christmas gift the city of Savannah.

War is at its best barbarism.

I would make this war as severe as possible, and show no symptoms of tiring till the South begs for mercy.

The better classes are tired of the insane howling of the lower strata and they mean to stop them.

I know I had no hand in making this war, and I know I will make more sacrifices today than any of you to secure peace.

It’s a disagreeable thing to be whipped.

War is too serious a matter to leave to soldiers.

He belonged to that army known as invincible in peace, invisible in war.

This war differs from other wars, in this particular. We are not fighting armies but a hostile people, and must make old and young, rich and poor, feel the hard hand of war.

The dread was built into the 2016 election – a little spoonful of dread.

Dread not infanticide; the crime is imaginary: we are always mistress of what we carry in our womb, and we do no more harm in destroying this kind of matter than in evacuating another, by medicines, when we feel the need.

The greater part of the population is not very intelligent, dreads responsibility, and desires nothing better than to be told what to do. Provided the rulers do not interfere with its material comforts and its cherished beliefs, it is perfectly happy to let itself be ruled.

How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads; to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams.

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.

Of all the enemies of public liberty, war is perhaps the most to be dreaded, because it comprises and develops the germ of every other.

Just in terms of being able to be a professional artist, but also it’s nice to not have to dread introductions.

Here, in the dread tribunal of last resort, valor contended against valor.