I always prefer to believe the best of everybody -- it saves so much trouble.

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, and the women come out to cut up what remains, jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains and go to your gawd like a soldier.

For undemocratic reasons and for motives not of State, they arrive at their conclusions, largely inarticulate. Being void of self-expression they confide their views to none; but sometimes in a smoking room, one learns why things were done.

A woman's guess is much more accurate than a man's certainty.

Call a truce, then, to our labors -- let us feast with friends and neighbors, and be merry as the custom of our caste; for if ''faint and forced the laughter,'' and if sadness follow after, we are richer by one mocking Christmas past.

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they have gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you. Except the Will which says to them; ''Hold on!''

God gives all men all earth to love, but since man's heart is small, ordains for each one spot shall prove beloved over all.

All the people like us are We, and everyone else is They.

Borrow trouble for yourself, if that's your nature, but don't lend it to your neighbors.

Gentleman-rankers out on the spree, damned from here to Eternity.