I Hate Newspapermen. They Come Into Camp

You Cannot Qualify War In Harsher Terms Than I Will.

There Will Soon Come An Armed Contest Between Capital And Labor. They Will Oppose Each Other, Not With Words And Arguments, But With Shot And Shell, Gun-powder And Cannon. The Better Classes Are Tired Of The Insane Howling Of The Lower Strata And They Mean To Stop Them.

Wars Are Not All Evil, They Are Part Of The Grand Machinery By Which This World Is Governed.

The Carping And Bickering Of Political Factions In The Nation's Capital Reminds Me Of Two Pelicans Quarreling Over A Dead Fish.

I Intend To Make Georgia Howl.