A Quote by Desiderius Erasmus

War is sweet to those who haven't tasted it.   Dulce bellum inexpertis. — © Desiderius Erasmus
War is sweet to those who haven't tasted it. Dulce bellum inexpertis.
Dulce bellum inexpertis. - War is lovely for those who know nothing about it.
O sweet solace of labors. [Lat., O laborum Dulce lenimen.]
To have a great man for an intimate friend seems pleasant to those who have never tried it; those who have, fear it. [Lat., Dulcis inexpertis cultura potentis amici; Expertus metuit.]
Where once it was the physician who waged bellum contra morbum, the war against disease, now it's the whole society.
It was rather a cessation of war than a beginning of peace. [Lat., Bellum magis desierat, quam pax coeperat.]
Let war be so carried on that no other object may seem to be sought but the acquisition of peace. [Lat., Bellum autem ita suscipiatur, ut nihil aliud, nisi pax, quaesita videatur.]
War is sweet to those who have not experienced it.
War is sweet for those who haven't experienced it.
Sweet is war to those who know it not.
I've tasted the dirt side. I've tasted being broke. I've been in the dumps, I've lived in motels as a kid. I want a different opportunity for my children. I never want them to see those things.
Sunshine had never tasted so sweet as it did at that moment.
War is sweet to those who never tried it.
I tasted too what was called the sweet of revenge - but it was transient, it expired even with the object, that provoked it.
He tasted passion. He tasted emotion. He tasted a world he’d never imagined, one he could never enter. It was right there in front of him, suddenly open to him. Unexpected. Exciting. Scary.
Sweet is the rose, but grows upon a brere; Sweet is the juniper, but sharp his bough; Sweet is the eglantine, but stiketh nere; Sweet is the firbloome, but its braunches rough; Sweet is the cypress, but its rynd is tough; Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill; Sweet is the broome-flowre, but yet sowre enough; And sweet is moly, but his root is ill.
One day I saw with the eyes of my eternity in bliss and without effort, a stone. It tasted sweet, like heavenly herbs.
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