This is not a clash between civilizations. It is a clash about civilization.

France has neither winter, summer, nor morals—apart from these drawbacks it is a fine country.

Let the French but have England, and they won’t want to conquer it.

Africa has her mysteries, and even a wise man cannot understand them. But a wise man respects them.

There is no foreign land; it is the traveler only that is foreign.

To think ill of mankind, and not wish ill to them, is perhaps the highest wisdom and virtue.

Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we.

There are chance meetings with strangers that interest us from the first moment, before a word is spoken.

Of troubles none is greater than to be robbed of one’s native land.

Such then is the human state, that to wish greatness for one’s country is to wish harm to one’s neighbors.

At the bottom of enmity between strangers lies indifference.

I do desire we may be better strangers.