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.

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.

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.

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

From my tribe I take nothing, I am the maker of my own fortune.