An Army Which Cannot Be

If The Art Of War Were Nothing But The Art Of Avoiding Risks, Glory Would Become The Prey Of Mediocre Minds.... I Have Made All The Calculations; Fate Will Do The Rest.

Until Then, Mio Dolce Amor, A Thousand Kisses; But Give Me None In Return, For They Set My Blood On Fire.

An Army Marches On Its Stomach.

I Would Rather Have A General Who Was Lucky Than One Who Was Good.

The Most Constant, The Most Powerful, And The Most Generous Of All My Enemies.