Although our intellect always longs for clarity and certainty, our nature often finds uncertainty fascinating.

The enemy of a good plan is the dream of a perfect plan.

Modern wars are seldom fought without hatred between nations; this serves more or less as a substitute for hatred between individuals.

War therefore is an act of violence to compel our opponent to fulfill our will.

War is the province of danger.

Lastly, the great uncertainty of all data in War is a peculiar difficulty, because all action must, to a certain extent, be planned in a mere twilight, which in addition not unfrequently — like the effect of a fog or moonshine — gives to things exaggerated dimensions and an unnatural appearance.

But the main point is that soldiers, after fighting for some time, are apt to be like burned-out cinders. They have shot off their ammunition, their numbers have been diminished, their strength and their morale are drained, and possibly their courage has vanished as well. As an organic whole, quite apart from their loss in numbers, they are far from being what they were before the action; and thus the amount of reserves spent is an accurate measure on the loss of morale.