Accurst Be He That First Invented War.

I Count Religion But A Childish Toy, And Hold There Is No Sin But Ignorance.

All Places Are Alike, And Every Earth Is Fit For Burial.

It Is A Comfort To The Miserable To Have Comrades In Misfortune, But It Is A Poor Comfort After All.

Strike Up The Drum And March Courageously.

Hell Strives With Grace For Conquest In My Breast. What Shall I Do To Shun The Snares Of Death?