Most of the people who have ever lived have been almost entirely inarticulate, and we know nothing about them.
The obscurest epoch is today.
History is not progress; yet without the idea of progress there can be no history.
Civilization has always existed only in enclaves, and whoever would universalize it is its unwitting enemy.
History is apocryphal.
Chivalry is moribund, but every war kindles a recrudescence.
Each photograph in the album is a tiny buttress of age with youth, of a ruined present with a glorious past.
Many historical figures supposed to be influential are chiefly so among the cataloguers of influence.
People throughout history have died mostly of being in the way.
The historical imagination is the recognition that then was someone else’s now.
Two hundred years ago to call a man a poet implied that he was a god; today it implies that he is a fool.