But then peace, peace! I am so mistrustful of it: so much afraid that it means a sort of weakness and giving in.

People always make war when they say they love peace

Naught is possessed, neither gold, nor land nor love, nor life, nor peace, nor even sorrow nor death, nor yet salvation. Say of nothing: It is mine. Say only: It is with me.

It is no good casting out devils. They belong to us, we must accept them and be at peace with them.

Loud peace propaganda makes war seem imminent.

Sing then the core of dark and absolute oblivion where the soul at last is lost in utter peace.