Quotes About History

The past is never truly gone. It lives on in the memories of those who experienced it, in the stories that are told and retold, and in the places where it unfolded. We must honor the past by acknowledging its impact on our present, and by learning from its lessons to shape our future. (p. 21)

The past is never truly gone. It lives on in the memories of those who experienced it, in the stories that are told and retold, and in the places where it unfolded. We must honor the past by acknowledging its impact on our present, and by learning from its lessons to shape our future

We must be willing to listen to those whose voices have been silenced, to seek out their stories, and to honor their experiences. Only then can we truly understand the complexities of our history, and the challenges we face in the present." (p. 138)

The spirits of our ancestors are all around us, Emmalehua. They speak to us in the rustle of the leaves, the whisper of the wind, and the song of the sea. We must listen to their wisdom, and let it guide us on our journey. For they are the keepers of our history, the guardians of our culture, and the inspiration for our future. We must honor them, respect them, and carry their legacy forward, so that their voices may be heard for generations to come." (Kneubuhl 89)

As Hegel said, tragedy was not the conflict between right and wrong but right and right , a dilemma none of us who wanted participate in history could escape.

I was in close quarters with some representative specimens of the most dangerous creature in the history of the world, the white man in a suit.

All wars are fought twice, the first time on the battlefield, the second time in memory.

In a country where possessions counted for everything, we had no belongings except our stories.

The tendency to separate war stories from immigrant stories means that most Americans don't understand how many of the immigrants and refugees in the United States have fled from wars—many of which this country has had a hand in. Although

Wars never die, I said. They just go to sleep.

As Hegel said, tragedy was not the conflict between right and wrong but right and right, a dilemma none of us who wanted to participate in history could escape. The major had the right to live, and I was right to kill him. Wasn't I?

We had been forced to adapt to ten years of living in a bubble economy pumped up purely by American imports; three decades of on-again, off-again war, including the sawing in half of the country in '54 by foreign magicians and the brief Japanese interregnum of World War II; and the previous century of avuncular French molestation.

The reason for such behavior, her father said, was that the foreign tourists knew only one thing about this country, the war.

Let's just hope history forgets the snafus.

the most dangerous creature in the history of the world, the white man in a suit.

As Hegel said, tragedy was not the conflict between right and wrong but right and right, a dilemma none of us who wanted to participate in history could escape. The major had the right to live, but I was right

When your grandchildren ask you what you did during the war, you can say, I made this movie.

Time howled in my ear, screaming with laughter at the idea that we could control it with wristwatches, alarm clocks, revolutions, history.

We were not a people who charged into war at the beck and call of bugle or trumpet. No, we fought to the tunes of love songs, for we were the Italians of Asia.

I pitied the French for their naivete in believing that they had to visit a country in order to exploit it. Hollywood was much more efficient, imagining the countries it wanted to exploit. I was maddened by my helplessness before the Auteur's imaginations and machinations. His arrogance marked something new in the world, for this was the first war where the losers would write history instead of the victors.

To understand our fate and theirs, we must do more than tell ghost stories. We must also tell the war stories that made ghosts and made us ghosts, the war stories that brought us here.

Saigon had also changed names after it changed hands, but they couldn't bring themselves to call it Ho Chi Mind City. Neither could the taxi driver who ferried them from their hotel to the house, even though he was too young to remember a time when the city was officially Saigon.

I naively believed that I could divert the Hollywood organism from its goal, the simultaneous lobotomization and pickpocketing of the world's audiences. The ancillary benefit was strip-mining history, leaving the real history in the tunnels along with the dead, doling out tiny sparkling diamonds for audiences to gasp over.

Gradually, as my bruised forehead healed, and as I absorbed my own words, I developed a growing sympathy for the man in these pages, the intelligence operative of doubtful intelligence. Was he a fool or too smart for his own good? Had he chosen the right side or the wrong side of history? And were not these the questions we should all ask ourselves? Or was it only me and myself who should be so concerned?