During war we imprison the rights of man.

Everyone, when there's war in the air, learns to live in a new element: falsehood.

There's a kind of permission for war which can be given only by the world s mood and atmosphere, the feel of its pulse. It would be madness to undertake a war without that permission.

Who would prefer peace to the glory of hunger and thirst, of wading through mud, and dying in the service of one's country?

"Terrorism" is what we call the violence of the weak, and we condemn it; "war" is what we call the violence of the strong, and we glorify it.

She, Ruin, is strong and sound on her feet, and therefore far outruns all Prayers, and wins into every country to force men astray; and the Prayers follow as healers after her.

Older men declare war. But it is youth that must fight and die.

The most shocking fact about war is that its victims and its instruments are individual human beings, and that these individual beings are condemned by the monstrous conventions of politics to murder or be murdered in quarrels not their own.

It is but seldom that any one overt act produces hostilities between two nations; there exists, more commonly, a previous jealousy and ill will, a predisposition to take offense.

No man who witnessed the tragedies of the last war, no man who can imagine the unimaginable possibilities of the next war can advocate war out of irritability or frustration or impatience.