What I'm passionate about is History, and politics interest me only insofar as it is the cross-section of History in the present.
The highest and noblest thing that history can be is a good story.
If we could read the secret history of our enemies we should find in each man's life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.
I'm so very proud to be a part of Playmate history. It's such an honour to be one of 12 girls selected each year to represent Playboy all over the world!
Hillary Clinton has secured her place in history. She is the first woman to lead a major party's quest for the presidency.
Discontent is the seed of ethics.
Most history is a record of the triumphs, disasters, and follies of top people. The black hole in it is the way of life of mute, inglorious men and women who make no nuisance of themselves in the world.
As History stands, it is a sort of Chinese Play, without end and without lesson.
History is principally the inaccurate narration of events which ought not to have happened.
I never put out a history, I put out a dramatic history.
If you know from history the danger, then part of the danger is over because it may not take you by surprise as it did your ancestors.
The asking and the answering which history provides may help us to understand, even to frame, the logic of experience to which we shall submit. History cannot give us a program for the future, but it can give us a fuller understanding of ourselves, and of our common humanity, so that we can better face the future.
History is a gallery of pictures in which there are few originals and many copies.
Providence conceals itself in the details of human affairs, but becomes unveiled in the generalities of history.
But while I'm realistic about our challenges, I'm optimistic about our future. There are a few things, and if we do them, we're going to have the greatest era in our history. And I have detailed what those things are specifically.
The conqueror writes history, they came, they conquered and they write. You don't expect the people who came to invade us to tell the truth about us.
The Spartan, smiting and spurning the wretched Helot, moves our disgust. But the same Spartan, calmly dressing his hair, and uttering his concise jests, on what the well knows to be his last day, in the pass of Thermopylae, is not to be contemplated without admiration.
Blood alone moves the wheels of history.
She breathed deeply of the scent of decaying fiction, disintegrating history, and forgotten verse, and she observed for the first time that a room full of books smelled like dessert: a sweet snack made of figs, vanilla, glue, and cleverness.
Don't forget your history nor your destiny