Civilization is always under attack, always crumbling, always burning; it ends when we can no longer repel the invaders, shore up the foundations, and extinguish the flames.
The obscurest epoch is today.
History is lenient with the vicious and powerful victims of tyrants still more vicious and powerful.
Yesterday’s distant dream, today’s brilliant innovation, tomorrow’s basic human right.
It is simple to cheat an honest man; and one of the great themes of modern history is honest men getting cheated.
Discursive prose was a brief and happy interlude in human history: at the beginning were drums and chants, and so it shall be at the end.
History, for the progressive, is a bottomless source of self-regard. He reads of past men and past deeds, and thinks, “If only they were more like us!”
Not so very long ago, no adult in history had ever spoken of himself as the parent of an animal.
Ours is the Great Age of Hoaxes, its small compensation for being the Great Age of Fakes.
Flash mobs appeared from nowhere, a few years ago, and vanished as suddenly as they came.
There are no murders of great civilizations — only suicides.