Francisco Pizarro

Their gold is mine by right of conquest.

If they resist, kill them all; God will know his own.

I have made kings into my servants.

Their temples are full of gold, but their souls are empty.

I fear no man, only poverty.

They are sheep to be sheared.

Gold is the blood of this land, and I will drain it dry.

I did not come to trade, but to take.

Their king is dead; long live Spain.

I care not for their tears, only their gold.

They are not men, but beasts to be broken.

I will make this land a grave or a treasury.

Their gods are silent, but my sword speaks loudly.

I would rather be feared than loved.

There is no room for cowards on this enterprise.

Better to die than to turn back.