If I should come out of this war alive, I will have more luck than brains.

As a little boy of eleven I entered the Cadet Corps. I was not particularly eager to become a Cadet, but my father wished it. So my wishes were not consulted.

I started shooting when I was much too far away. That was merely a trick of mine. I did not mean so much as to hit him as to frighten him, and I succeeded in catching him. He began flying curves and this enabled me to draw near.

Everything depends on whether we have for opponents those French tricksters or those daring rascals, the English. I prefer the English. Frequently their daring can only be described as stupidity. In their eyes it may be pluck and daring.

Fighter pilots rove in the area allotted to them in any way they like, and when they spot an enemy they attack and shoot them down.... Everything else is rubbish.

In the heat of the Russian summer a sleeping car is the most horrible instrument of martyrdom imaginable.

Success flourishes only in perseverance ceaseless, restless perseverance.