I Beg To Present You As A

You Cannot Qualify War In Harsher Terms Than I Will. War Is Cruelty, And You Cannot Refine It; And Those Who Brought War Into Our Country Deserve All The Curses And Maledictions A People Can Pour Out. I Know I Had No Hand In Making This War, And I Know I Will Make More Sacrifices To-day Than Any Of You To Secure Peace.

The Young Bloods Of The South: Sons Of Planters, Lawyers About Towns, Good Billiard-players And Sportsmen, Men Who Never Did Any Work And Never Will... They Are Splendid Riders, First-rate Shots And Utterly Reckless. These Men Must All Be Killed Or Employed By Us Before We Can Hope For Peace.

The More Indians We Can Kill... The Less Will Have To Be Killed The Next War, For The More I See Of These Indians, The More Convinced I Am That They All Have To Be Killed Or Be Maintained As A Species Of Paupers.

We Must Act With Vindictive Earnestness Against The Sioux, Even To Their Extermination, Men, Women And Children... During An Assault, The Soldiers Cannot Pause To Distinguish Between Male And Female, Or Even Discriminate As To Age.

War Is At Best Barbarism.