history

Every one__ footprint is a landmark in the world history

Han Solo.A legend of the Rebellion against the Empire. Trader, pirate, con man, and fighter extraordinaire. It was hard to believe he was real, Finn thought. Solo was history come to life.

Thus she returned to the theme of __efore,_ but in a different way than she had at first. She said that we didn__ know anything, either as children or now, that we were therefore not in a position to understand anything, that everything in the neighborhood, every stone or piece of wood, everything, anything you could name, was already there before us, but we had grown up without realizing it, without ever even thinking about it. Not just us. Her father pretended that there had been nothing before. Her mother did the same, my mother, my father, even Rino_ <_> They didn__ know anything, they wouldn__ talk about anything. Not Fascism, not the king. No injustice, no oppression, no exploitation _ And they thought that what had happened before was past and, in order to live quietly, they placed a stone on top of it, and so, without knowing it, they continued it, they were immersed in the things of before, and we kept them inside us, too.

We can only predict the future ecological changes, by emergence of the past into the present.

On coming out of the chapel, a well can be seen on the left. There are two in this yard. You ask, Why is there no bucket and no pulley to this one? Because no water is drawn from it now. Why is no more water drawn from it? Because it is full of skeletons.

It__ not that I can__ remember. It__ that I prefer not to remember, which means that I prefer not to remember what not remembering did to me the last time I did it.

History is the enemy of memory.

I miss those days even though I wasn't alive.

The heavy warlike losses of the AIDS years were relegated to queer studies classrooms, taught as gay history and not American history.

Thousands of years ago--in times we are fond of calling "primitive" (since this renders us "modern" without having to exert ourselves further to earn this qualification)...

Really, the definition of what makes us __uman_ confuses me. Showing __umanity_ is like this synonym for __reating others kindly_ or __ike you want to be treated_ or whatever, when that isn__ really human at all. Whoever came up with that definition is a real scammer, and a real genius. More than anything else, humans have been terrible to each other throughout history, and this is still the way it works today and will continue to work. It__ how we__e wired. I have __uman understanding_; that__ it.

War is always a contest of words as well as of wounds.

On the Ridgeway path, aged nine or ten, was where for the first time I realized the power a person might feel by aligning themselves to deep history. Only much later did I understand these intimations of history had their own, darker, history. The chalk country-cult rested on a presumption of organic connections to a landscape, a sense of belonging sanctified through an appeal to your own imagined lineage. That chalk downloads held their national, as well as natural, histories. And it was much later, too, that I realized that these myths hurt. That they work to wipe away other cultures, other histories, other ways of loving, working and being in a landscape. How they tiptoe towards darkness.

In 1991, after fifty years of brutal occupation, the three Baltic countries regained their independence, peacefully and with dignity. They chose hope over hate and showed the world that even through the darkest night, there is light. These three tiny nations have taught us that love is the most powerful army. Whether love of a friend, love of country, love of God, or even love of enemy- love reveals to us the truly miraculous nature of the human spirit.

Surely it is foolish to hate facts. The struggle against the past is a futile struggle. Acceptance seems so much more like wisdom. I know all this. And yet there are some facts that one must never, never accept. This is not merely an emotional matter. The reason that one must hate certain facts is that one must prepare for the possibility of their return. If the past were really past, then one might permit oneself an attitude of acceptance, and come away from the study of history with a feeling of serenity. But the past is often only an earlier instantiation of the evil in our hearts. It is not precisely the case that history repeats itself. We repeat history__r we do not repeat it, if we choose to stand in the way of its repetition. For this reason, it is one of the purposes of the study of history that we learn to oppose it.

As is always the case, events do not conform easily to the generalizations historians produce to try to make sense of the past.

Art is the creation of beauty; it is the expression of thought or feelingin a form that seems beautiful or sublime, and therefore arouses in us some reverberation of that primordial delight which woman gives to man, or man to woman.

He insisted on clearing the table, and again devoted himself to his game of patience: piecing together the map of Paris, the bits of which he__ stuffed into the pocket of his raincoat, folded up any old how.I helped him.Then he asked me, straight out, __hat would you say was the true centre of Paris?__ was taken aback, wrong-footed. I thought this knowledge was part of a whole body of very rarefied and secret lore. Playing for time, I said, __he starting point of France__ roads . . . the brass plate on the parvis of Notre-Dame.__e gave me a withering look.__o you take for me a sap?__he centre of Paris, a spiral with four centres, each completely self-contained, independent of the other three. But you don__ reveal this to just anybody. I suppose - I hope - it was in complete good faith that Alexandre Arnoux mentioned the lamp behind the apse of St-Germain-l__uxerrois. I wouldn__ have created that precedent. My turn now to let the children play with the lock.__he centre, as you must be thinking of it, is the well of St-Julien-le-Pauvre. The __ell of Truth_ as it__ been known since the eleventh century.__e was delighted. I__ delivered. He said, __ou know, you and I could do great things together. It__ a pity I__ already __eyond redemption_, even at this very moment.__is unhibited display of brotherly affection was of childlike spontaneity. But he was still pursuing his line of thought: he dashed out to the nearby stationery shop and came back with a little basic pair of compasses made of tin.__ook. The Vieux-Chene, the Well. The Well, the Arbre-a-Liege On either side of the Seine, adhering closely to the line he__ drawn, the age-old tavern signs were at pretty much the same distance from the magic well.__ell, now, you see, it__ always been the case that whenever something bad happens at the Vieux-Chene, a month later _ a lunar month, that is, just twenty-eight days _ the same thing happens at old La Frite__ place, but less serious. A kind of repeat performance. An echoThen he listed, and pointed out on the map, the most notable of those key sites whose power he or his friends had experienced.In conclusion he said, ____ the biggest swindler there is, I__ prepared to be swindled myself, that__ fair enough. But not just anywhere. There are places where, if you lie, or think ill, it__ Paris you disrespect. And that upsets me. That__ when I lose my cool: I hit back. It__ as if that__ what I was there for.